PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653 by John Milton Lyrics

         WHEN HE FLED FROM ABSALOM.
         LORD how many are my foes
         How many those
         That in arms against me rise
         Many are they
         That of my life distrustfully thus say,
         No help for him in God there lies.

         But thou Lord art my shield my glory,
         Thee through my story
         Th' exalter of my head I count
         Aloud I cry'd
         Unto Jehovah, he full soon reply'd
         And heard me from his holy mount.
         I lay and slept, I wak'd again,
         For my sustain
         Was the Lord. Of many millions
         The populous rout
         I fear not though incamping round about
         They pitch against me their Pavillions.
         Rise Lord, save me my God for thou
         Hast smote ere now
         On the cheek-bone all my foes,
         Of men abhor'd
         Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;
         Thy blessing on thy people flows.