WEBVTT

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O Lord, help me, Lord, and let thy pity

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my saints by them forsaken.

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True faith seems quenched on every end.

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Men suffer not thy word to stand.

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Dark times have us all taken.

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With thought which may themselves invent,
Thy truth they have confounded.

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Their hearts are not with one consent,
On thy pure doctrine grounded.

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While they parade without word show,
They lay the people to and fro,

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In error's place astounded.

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May God root out all heresy, And the false
teachers rid us, Who proudly say,

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Now where is he That shall our speech
forbade us?

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By right or might we shall prevail,
What we determine cannot fail,

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We own no lord and master.

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Therefore, safeguard, I must arise,
The poor my help are needing, To be ascend

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by people's cries, And I have heard their
bleeding.

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For them my saving word shall fight,
And fearlessly and sharply smite,

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The poor with my defending.

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And silver-tide my power is poor,
From all adulteration.

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So through God's word shall men endure,
Each trial and temptation.

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His light beams brighter through the
cross, And to revive from human flaws.

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It shines through every nation.

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Defend thy truth, O God, and stay,
This evil generation.

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And from the error of its way,
Keep thine own congregation.

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The wicked everywhere abound, And poor,
thy little flock confound, But thou art

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our salvation.