THE PSALMS of DAVID, PSALM CXXIII

To Thee, for Succour, in Distress, I lift my longing Eyes; Oh! thou Omnipotent, Supream! Who dwell'st above the Skies. As Servants, eye their Master's Hand, Their Mistresses, the Maids; So to the Lord, our God, we look, For his reviving Aids. Have Mercy upon us, O Lord, Oh! Pity to us show; For loaded with most base Contempt, We feel the Depth of Woe. From those that live at Ease, our Soul Is greatly fill'd with Scorn; And the vile Insult of the Proud, We heavily have borne.