Psalm 3
Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 How num'rous, Lord, of late are grown
the troublers of my peace!
And, as their numbers hourly rise,
so does their rage increase.
2 Insulting they my soul upbraid,
and him whom I adore;
The God in whom he trusts, say they,
shall rescue him no more.
3 But thou, O Lord, art my defense;
on thee my hopes rely;
Thou art my glory, and shalt yet
lift up my head on high.
4 Since whensoe'er in like distress
to God I made my pray'r,
He heard me from his holy hill,
why should I now despair?
5 Guarded by him, I laid me down
my sweet repose to take;
For I through him securely sleep,
through him in safety wake.
6 No force nor fury of my foes
my courage shall confound,
Were they as many hosts as men
that have beset me round.
7 Arise and save me, O my God,
who oft hast owned my cause,
And scattered oft these foes to me,
and to thy righteous laws.
8 Salvation to the Lord belongs,
he only can defend;
His blessing he extends to all
that on his pow'r depend.
