Psalm 03

Aug. 9. When He Fled From Absalom. Lord how many are my foes How many those That in arms against me rise Many are they That of my life distrustfully thus say, No help for him in God there lies. But thou Lord art my shield my glory, Thee through my story Th' exalter of my head I count Aloud I cry'd Unto Jehovah, he full soon reply'd And heard me from his holy mount. I lay and slept, I wak'd again, For my sustain Was the Lord. Of many millions The populous rout I fear not though incamping round about They pitch against me their Pavillions. Rise Lord, save me my God for thou Hast smote ere now On the cheek-bone all my foes, Of men abhor'd Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord; Thy blessing on thy people flows.