Classic Poem

My troubles, Lord, are multipli'd,
O succour the distrest!
In simplest truth thy Servant guide,
The wisest interest.

From th'associate strength of Foes
Be thou my just defence,
Who, for the Serpents craft, depose
The Doves white Innocence.

Though to oppresse Me they agree,
Combin'd in mutuall aid;
Let not my Soul and Honours be
To their deceits betray'd.

Devotion, and Allegiance, thou
Canst in their hearts renue;
That him they may restore, whom now
They eagerly pursue.

Love of thy Truth preserve in me,
And I despair not theirs:
At thy command the flowing Sea
Back to its Bound repairs.

My God, on thee my hopes depend,
Me let not shame surprize,
But them who without cause offend;
Repulse my Enemies.

My Armour be Integrity,
For Lord, on thee I wait:
The Church, which thou hast own'd, set free
From her perplex'd estate.