Domine, quid multiplicati?
Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! Many are they that rise against me. Many one there be that say of my soul, There is no help for him in his God. But thou, O Lord, art my defender; thou art my worship, and the lifter up of my head. I did call upon the Lord with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. I laid me down and slept, and rose up again; for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid for ten thousands of the people that have set themselves against me round about.
Up, Lord, and help me, O my God, for thou smitest all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly. Salvation belongeth unto the Lord; and thy blessing is upon thy people.
The coverdale translation edited by W.S. Peterson and Valerie Macys — used with permission.