Why standest Thou O Lord! so farr away
And hids't Thy face when trubles mee dismay?
The wicked for his lust the poore man spoyles;
Lord! take him in the trap of his owne wiles.
Hee makes his boaste of his profane desires
Contemninge God, while hee himselfe admires:
Hee is soe proud, that God hee setts at naught,
Nay rather, God comes neuer in his thought.
Thy judgements Lord, are farr aboue his sight
This makes him to esteeme his foes soe light,
And in his hart to say, I cannot fall,
Nor can misfortune light on mee at all:
His mouth is full of execrat[i]ons vile;
Under his tongue doth sit ungodly guile;
Close in the corners of the waies he lies,
And lurkes, and waits, the simple to surprize:
Euen as a lyon lurkinge in his den,
To assault and murther innocent poore men;
Gainst whom his eyes maliciously are sett,
To catch them when they fall into his nett.
Himselfe hee humbles, bowes, and crouchinge stands
Till poore men fall into his powerfull hands;
Then, in his heart hee sayth 'God hath forgott:
Hee turnes away his face and sees it not.'
Arise O Lord! and lift Thy hand on high,
The poore forgett not which oppressèd ly:
For why should wicked men blaspheme Thee thus
'Tush! God is carelesse and regards not us'?
Surely Thou seest the wronge which they haue done,
And all oppressions underneath the sunne;
To Thee alone the poore his cause commends
As th' only freind of him that wanteth freinds.
Lord! breake the power of the malicious minde
Take ill away, and Thou not ill shalt finde.
The Lord is kinge, and doth for euer raigne,
Nor miscreants shall within His Land remaine;
Hee hearkeneth to the poore, but first prepareth
Their hearts to pray; then their petition heareth:
That Hee poore orphans, may both help and saue,
That worldly men on them no power may haue.