How num'rous, Lord, of late are grown The troublers of my peace; And as their numbers hourly rise, So doth their rage increase. But thou, O Lord, art my defence, On thee my hopes rely: Thou art my glory, and shalt yet Lift up my head on high. Arise and save me, O my God, Who oft hast own'd my cause; And scatter'd oft those foes to me And to thy righteous laws. Salvation to the Lord belongs, He only can defend: His blessing he extends to all That on his pow'r depend.