John Milton - PSAL. VII. Aug. 14. 1653 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

        Lord my God to thee I flie
         Save me and secure me under
         Thy protection while I crie
         Least as a Lion (and no wonder)
         He hast to tear my Soul asunder
        Tearing and no rescue nigh.

         Lord my God if I have thought
         Or done this, if wickedness
         Be in my hands, if I have wrought
         Ill to him that meant me peace,
         Or to him have render'd less,
         And fre'd my foe for naught;

         Let th'enemy pursue my soul
         And overtake it, let him tread
        My life down to the earth and roul
         In the dust my glory dead,
         In the dust and there out spread
         Lodge it with dishonour foul.

         Rise Jehovah in thine ire
         Rouze thy self amidst the rage
        Of my foes that urge like fire;
         And wake for me, their furi' asswage;
        Judgment here thou didst ingage
         And command which I desire.

        So th' assemblies of each Nation
         Will surround thee, seeking right,
         Thence to thy glorious habitation
         Return on high and in their sight.
         Jehovah judgeth most upright
         All people from the worlds foundation.

         Judge me Lord, be judge in this
         According to my righteousness
         And the innocence which is
         Upon me: cause at length to cease
         Of evil men the wickedness
        And their power that do amiss.

         But the just establish fast,
         Since thou art the just God that tries
         Hearts and reins. On God is cast
         My defence, and in him lies
         In him who both just and wise
         Saves th' upright of Heart at last.

        God is a just Judge and severe,
        And God is every day offended;
         If th' unjust will not forbear,
         His Sword he whets, his Bow hath bended
         Already, and for him intended
         The tools of death, that waits him near.

         (His arrows purposely made he
         For them that persecute.) Behold
         He travels big with vanitie,
         Trouble he hath conceav'd of old
         As in a womb, and from that mould
         Hath at length brought forth a Lie.

        He dig'd a pit, and delv'd it deep,
         And fell into the pit he made,
        His mischief that due course doth keep,
         Turns on his head, and his ill trade
        Of violence will undelay'd
         Fall on his crown with ruine steep.

         Then will I Jehovah's praise
        According to his justice raise
        And sing the Name and Deitie
        Of Jehovah the most high.