To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

1 Blessed is he that wisely doth
the poor man’s case consider;
For when the time of trouble is,
the Lord will him deliver.

2 God will him keep, yea, save alive;
on earth he blessed shall live;
And to his enemies’ desire
thou wilt him not up give.

3 God will give strength when he on bed
of languishing doth mourn;
And in his sickness sore, O Lord,
thou all his bed wilt turn.

4 I said, O Lord, do thou extend
thy mercy unto me;
O do thou heal my soul; for why?
I have offended thee.

5 Those that to me are enemies,
of me do evil say,
When shall he die, that so his name
may perish quite away?

6 To see me if he comes, he speaks
vain words: but then his heart
Heaps mischief to it, which he tells,
when forth he doth depart.

7 My haters jointly whispering,
‘gainst me my hurt devise.
8 Mischief, say they, cleaves fast to him;
he li’th, and shall not rise.

9 Yea, ev’n mine own familiar friend,
on whom I did rely,
Who ate my bread, ev’n he his heel
against me lifted high.

10 But, Lord, be merciful to me,
and up again me raise,
That I may justly them requite
according to their ways.

11 By this I know that certainly
I favored am by thee;
Because my hateful enemy
triumphs not over me.

12 But as for me, thou me uphold’st
in mine integrity;
And me before thy countenance
thou sett’st continually.

13 The Lord, the God of Israel,
be blessed for ever then,
From age to age eternally.
Amen, yea, and amen.