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In deep distress I oft have cried
to God, who never yet denied
To rescue me, oppressed with wrongs.
Once more, O Lord, deliv'rance send,
from lying lips my soul defend,
And from the rage of sland'ring tongues.
What little profit can accrue,
and yet what heavy wrath is due,
O thou perfidious tongue, to thee!
Thy sting upon thyself shall turn;
of lasting flames that fiercely burn,
The constant fuel thou shalt be.
But O how wretched is my doom,
who am a sojourner become
In barren Mesech's desert soil!
With Kedar's wicked tents enclosed,
to lawless savages exposed,
Who live on naught but theft and spoil.
My hapless dwelling is with those
who peace and amity oppose,
And pleasure take in others' harms:
Sweet peace is all I court and seek;
but when to them of peace I speak,
They straight cry out, "To arms, to arms!"
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 8 8
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1696
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 120;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1821 | # 120 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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OLD 113TH
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 8 8
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Writer(s):
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|
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Dates:
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1525
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 584 | Eb | | # 171 | Eb |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
