Sing praise to the LORD, who in Zion does dwell;
Among all the peoples His great doings tell.
When blood He avenges, His memory is clear;
The cry of the poor never fades from His ear.
LORD, see what I suffer from malice and hate:
Have mercy! O lift me away from death's gate,
That I with the daughter of Zion may voice
Your praises, and in Your salvation rejoice.
The nations are sunk in the pit they prepared;
Their foot in the net which they his is ensnared.
The LORD by His judgment has made Himself known,
He by their own works has the wicked o'er-thrown.
The wicked to death's dark abode shall be brought,
And all of the nations who God have forgot.
Forgotten no longer the cause of the weak,
Nor perished forever the hope of the meek.
Rise, LORD, that mere man may not make himself strong;
Let nations be judged in Your presence for wrong.
Strike terror within them, O LOR: al-ways then
Let nations know truly that they are mere men.
