Verse 1
Blest is the Man whose kind Relief
Doth to the Poor extend,
The Lord shall bear his every Grief
And bid his Troubles end.
Thou shalt preserve him here, and bless
Before Thou hence convey,
Nor let his cruel Haters seize
And swallow up their Prey.

Verse 2
When Sick and languishing he lies,
Thy Pity shall Sustain,
In all his Sorrows Sympathize,
And sweeten all his Pain:
Thy Love shall smooth his easy Bed,
And lull his Cares to rest,
And bid him lean his fainting Head
On thy beloved Breast.

Verse 3
I said, when chasten’d by thy Rod,
Have Mercy on my Soul,
My Soul hath Sin’d against my GOD,
Forgive, and make it whole.
My cruel Foe with foulest lies
Still heightens my Distress,
When will he die (in Rage he cries)
And his Memorial cease?

Verse 4
And if he comes with shews of Love,
As to condole my Pain,
His Words are not of Things above,
But Idle all and Vain.
Iniquity his Heart conceives,
He hatches deepest Fraud,
The Object of his hatred leaves,
And spreads the Lies abroad.

Verse 5
’Gainst me my mortal Foes conspire,
And whisper first their Lies,
But strengthen’d in their Sin to higher
And bolder Mischiefs rise.
Afflicted by a sore Disease
He cannot ’scape our Power,
Cast down (with Joy they say) He is,
And He shall rise no more.

Verse 6
Now let his guilty Doom proceed,
Let him no more appear,
No never lift his hated Head
Again to plague us here.
Yea, ev’n my Bosom, friend who still
Was at my Table found,
Hath spurn’d me with his lifted Heel,
And Wider torn my Wound.

Verse 7
But raise me up, my gracious GOD,
That I my wish may see,
Their Evil by my Good subdued,
Their Souls brought home to Thee.
Hereby Thou favour’st me, I know,
Because, thy Grace again
Hath rais’d me up, nor let my Foe
His Victory maintain.

Verse 8
Thou keepest me from Hour to Hour,
And sett’st before thy Face,
To sing the greatness of thy Power,
And triumph in thy Praise.
Glory to Israel’s GOD and Lord
His Name exalted be
By Angels and by Saints ador’d
To all Eternity.