O Lord, I call, make haste to hear my cry,
Let my prayer rise like incense to Thy throne.
Guard Thou my mouth, let no vain word pass by,
My heart from evil’s lure keep ever known.
Let righteous smite, their rebuke a kindly grace,
Nor let my head the wicked’s oil receive.
My prayer against their malice shall find place,
Their judges cast to ruin, none reprieve.
Our bones are scattered at the grave’s dark gate,
Yet in Thy truth my eyes are fixed, O Lord.
Keep me from snares the wicked lie in wait,
Let them be caught, while I escape restored.
imaginate.pro 