English poem
PSAL. LIII. To the chief Musician upon Mahalath Maschil, A Psalm of David
by Anonymous
THe fool in's heart faith there's no God, they are corrupt each one: Abominable sin they do, that doth good there is none. God from the heavens looked down on sons of men to see. If any that doth understand, that seeketh God there be.
They altogether filthy are, each one is backward gone: There is not any that doth good, no, not so much as one. The workers of iniquitie, have they no knowledge all? Who eat my people, even as bread, on God they do not call.
They greatly fear'd where no fear was 'gainst thee in camp that lies, His bones God scattered, & them sham'd, for God doth them despise O who is he that graciously to Israel will fulfil His manifold salvations from out of Sion hill.
When God his people shall return, that have been captive led, Then Jacob shall therein rejoyce, and Israel shall be glad.