Words: , The Psalms of Da­vid, 1719.

Music: Gräf­en­berg, , Prax­is Pi­e­ta­tis Mel­i­ca, 1647.

Save me, O Lord, from every foe;
In Thee my trust I place,
Though all the good that I can do
Can ne’er deserve Thy grace.

Yet if my God prolong my breath,
The saints may profit by’t;
The saints, the glory of the earth,
The men of my delight.

Let heathens to their idols haste,
And worship wood or stone;
But my delightful lot is cast
Where the true God is known.

His hand provides my constant food,
He fills my daily cup;
Much am I pleased with present good,
But more rejoice in hope.

God is my portion and my joy,
His counsels are my light;
He gives me sweet advice by day,
And gentle hints by night.

My soul would all her thoughts approve
To His all-seeing eye;
Not death, nor hell, my hope shall move,
While such a Friend is nigh.