W. van der Kamp, 1972, rev.
- How blest is he who will regard the poor:
He shall forever stand.
In troubled days the LORD makes him endure:
Blest is he in the land.
His enemies demand his life in vain,
Though he be near death’s door.
The LORD sustains him on his bed of pain:
His health Thou shalt restore.
I said, “O LORD, be gracious unto me,
Heal me, my sins are great.”
In malice speak my enemies of me,
And for my death they wait.
My visitor says empty words, O God,
With mischief in his heart.
When he goes out, he tells it all abroad,
Rejoicing when I smart.
My enemies, with hatred fierce and grim,
All whisper in disdain,
“A deadly thing has gotten hold of him,
He will not rise again.”
See how my bosom friend, whom I did trust,
With whom I shared my bread,
Has turned against me, showing his disgust,
And slanderous tales has spread.
But Thou, O LORD, be gracious unto me;
Let me their ill requite.
By this I know that Thou art pleased with me:
My foes are put to flight.
Forever in Thy presence I shall dwell,
Upheld by Thee again.
Blest be the LORD, the God of Israel,
From age to age! Amen.