1 Help, Lord, for men of virtue fail, Religion loses ground, The sons of violence prevail, And treacheries abound.
2 Their oaths and promises they break, Yet act the flatterer's part; With fair deceitful lips they speak, And with a double heart.
3 If we reprove some hateful lie, How is their fury stirr'd! "Are not our lips our own" they cry, "And who shall be our lord?"
4 Scoffers appear on every side, Where a vile race of men Is rais'd to seats of power and pride, And bears the sword in vain.