HElpe Lord, for godly Men haue took their flight, And left the Earth to be the Wicked’s Den: Not one that standeth fast to Truth and Right, But feares, or seekes to please, the Eies of Men. When one with other fall’s in talke apart, Their meaning goeth not with their words, in proofe; But faire they flatter, with a clouen Heart, By pleasing words, to worke their owne behoofe.
But God cut off the Lips, that are all set, To trap the harmlesse Soule, that peace hath vow’d; And pierce the Tongues, that seeke to counterfet The Confidence of Truth, by lying loud: Yet so they thinke to reigne, and worke their will, By subtill Speech, which enter’s euery where: And say, Our Tongues are ours, to helpe vs still, What need wee any Higher Power to feare?
Now for the bitter sighing of the poore, The Lord hath said, I will no more forbeare, The Wicked’s Kingdome to inuade and scoure, And set at large the Men restrain’d in feare. And sure, the Word of God is pure, and fine, And in the triall neuer looseth waight; Like Noble Gold, which since it left the Mine, Hath seuen times passed through the fiery straight.
And now thou wilt not first thy word forsake, Nor yet the Righteous man, that leanes theretoo; But will’t his safe Protection vndertake, In spight of all, their force, and wiles can doe. And time it is, ô Lord, thou didst draw nigh, The Wicked daily doe enlarge their Bands; And that, which makes them follow ill a vie, Rule is betaken to vnworthy Hands.