Classic Poem

My God, how are my foes increas'd!
What multitudes against me rise!
Who say, Give we his soul no rest
Whom God forsakes and men despise.

But Thou art my support, my tow'r,
My safety, my choice ornament;
Before Thy throne my pray'rs I pour,
Heard from Thy Sion's high ascent.

No fears affright my soft repose;
Thou my night-watch, my guard by day;
Not myriads of armed foes,
Nor treason's secret hands dismay.

Arise, O vindicate my cause!
My foes, whom wicked hate provoke,
Thou, Lord, hast smit their canker'd jaws,
And all their teeth asunder broke.

Thou, Lord, the only hope of those
Who Thee with holy zeal adore,
Whose all-protecting arms enclose
Their safety, who Thy aid implore.