1 Blessed be the Lord my strength, that doth
instruct my hands to fight;
The Lord that doth my fingers frame
to battle by his might.

2 He is my hope, my fort, and tow'r,
deliverer and shield;
In him I trust, my people he
subdues to me to yield.

3 O Lord, what thing is man, that him
thou dost so highly prize!
Or son of man, that upon him
thou thinkest in such wise!

4 Man is but like to vanity,
so pass his days to end,
As fleeting shade. Bow down, O Lord,
the heav'ns, and thence descend;

5 The mountains touch, and they shall smoke,
cast forth thy lightning's flame,
And scatter them; thy arrows shoot,
consume them with the same.

6 Send down thy hand from heav'n above,
O Lord, deliver me;
Take me from waters great, from hand
of strangers set me free;

7 Whose subtle mouth of vanity
with flatt'ring words doth treat,
And their right-hand is a right-hand
of falsehood and deceit.

8 A new song will I sing to thee,
O God the Lord most high,
And on a ten-stringed lute also
praise thee most joyfully.

9 E'en he it is that only gives
deliverance to kings;
Unto his servant David help
from hurtful sword he brings;

10 From strangers' hand me save and shield,
whose mouth talks vanity,
And their right-hand is a right-hand
of guile and subtlety.

11 That so our sons may be as plants
which growing youth doth rear,
Our daughters as carved corner-stones,
like to a palace fair;

12 Our garners full and plenty may
of sundry sorts be found;
Our sheep bring thousands, in our streets
ten thousand may abound:

13 Our oxen be to labour strong,
that none may us invade;
No goings out there be, nor cries
within our streets be made.

14 The people happy are that with
such blessings great are storm;
Yea, blessed all tile people are,
whose God is God the Lord.