1 O blessèd ever be the Lord,
who is my strength and might,
Who doth instruct my hands to war,
my fingers teach to fight.
2 My goodness, fortress, my high tow'r,
deliverer, and shield,
In whom I trust: who under me
my people makes to yield.
3 Lord, what is man, that thou of him
dost so much knowledge take?
Or son of man, that thou of him
so great account dost make?
4 Man is like vanity; his days,
as shadows, pass away.
5 Lord, bow thy heav'ns, come down, touch thou
the hills, and smoke shall they.
6 Cast forth thy lightning, scatter them;
thine arrows shoot, them rout.
7 Thine hand send from above, me save;
from great depths draw me out;
And from the hand of children strange,
8 Whose mouth speaks vanity;
And their right hand is a right hand
that works deceitfully.
9 A new song I to thee will sing,
Lord, on a psaltery;
I on a ten-stringed instrument
will praises sing to thee.
10 Ev'n he it is that unto kings
salvätion doth send;
Who his own servant David doth
from hurtful sword defend.
11 O free me from strange children's hand,
whose mouth speaks vanity;
And their right hand a right hand is
that works deceitfully.
12 That, as the plants, our sons may be
in youth grown up that are;
Our daughters like to corner-stones,
carved like a palace fair.
13 That to afford all kind of store
our garners may be filled;
That our sheep thousands, in our streets
ten thousands they may yield.
14 That strong our oxen be for work,
that no in-breaking be,
Nor going out; and that our streets
may from complaints be free.
15 Those people blessèd are who be
in such a case as this;
Yea, blessèd all those people are,
whose God JEHOVAH is.
Source: Foundations Psalter: 1650 Scottish Psalter #144