1. To thee I'll cry, O Lord, my rock;hold not thy peace to me;Lest like those that to pit descendI by thy silence be.
2. The voice hear of my humble pray'rs,when unto thee I cry;When to thine holy oracleI lift mine hands on high.
3. With ill men draw me not awaythat work iniquity;That speak peace to their friends, while intheir hearts doth mischief lie.
4. Give them according to their deedsand ills endeavoured:And as their handy-works deserve,to them be rendered.
5. God shall not build, but them destroy,who would not understandThe Lord's own works, nor did regardthe doing of his hand.