Classic Poem

PSALM CXL.

Protect us, Lord, from fatal harm;
Behold our rising woes;
We trust alone thy powerful arm,
To scatter all our foes.

Their tongue is like a poison'd dart,
Their thoughts are full of guile,
While rage and carnage swell their heart,
They wear a peaceful smile.

O G OD of grace, thy guardian care,
When foes without invade,
Or spread within a deeper snare,
Supplies our constant aid.

Let falshood flee before thy face,
Thy heavenly truth extend,
All nations taste thy heavenly grace,
And all delusion end.

With daily bread the poor supply,
The cause of justice plead,
And be thy church exalted high,
With Ch rist the glorious head.