1 O God, the heathen entered have thine heritage; by them Defilèd is thy house: on heaps they laid Jerusalem. 2 The bodies of thy servants they have cast forth to be meat To rav'nous fowls; thy dear saints' flesh they gave to beasts to eat. 3 Their blood about Jerusalem like water they have shed; And there was none to bury them when they were slain and dead. 4 Unto our neighbors a reproach most base become are we; A scorn and laughingstock to them that round about us be. 5 How long, Lord, shall thine anger last? wilt thou still keep the same? And shall thy fervent jealousy burn like unto a flame? 6 On heathen pour thy fury forth, that have thee never known, And on those kingdoms which thy name have never called upon. 7 For these are they who Jacob have devoured cruelly; And they his habitätion have causèd waste to lie. 8 Against us mind not former sins; thy tender mercies show; Let them prevent us speedily, for we're brought very low. 9 For thy name's glory help us, Lord, who hast our Savior been: Deliver us; for thy name's sake, O purge away our sin. 10 Why say the heathen, Where's their God? let him to them be known; When those who shed thy servants' blood are in our sight o'erthrown. 11 O let the pris'ner's sighs ascend before thy sight on high; Preserve those in thy mighty pow'r that are designed to die. 12 And to our neighbors' bosom cause it sev'nfold rendered be, Ev'n the reproach wherewith they have, O Lord, reproachèd thee. 13 So we thy folk, and pasture-sheep, shall give thee thanks always; And unto generations all we will show forth thy praise.