XLIV. Francis Davison

I APPEALE, oh God! to thee;

Oh, give sentence, Lord, with me,

And defend my helples cause

’Gainst such men as hate thy lawes:

Oh deliuer me from those

That deceitfully can gloze.

For thou art the God of whom

All my strength and help doth come:

Why, oh why hast thou from thee

So estrang’d and parted me?

And why doth my pace, so slowe,

Me deiected, heartles, showe,

While insulting enemies

Prest me with their iniuries?

Oh send out thy truth and light

To instruct and lead me right,

To conduct me to thy hill

And thy dwelling, holy still.

Then vnto thyne altar I

With oblations will hye,

Offring these to thee, who art

Joy and gladnes to my heart;

And vpon my harp will sing

Praise to thee, O God my King!

O my soule, oh, why art thou

So cast downe? so heauy now?

And why art thou in my breast

So disturbed of thy rest?

Wayt on God, be patient,

And in him be confident.

Yet I will remaine the same,

To give thankes to his great name;

For he is my God of might,

Who my countenance setts right.