O Lord, my God, I pray thee bow thine ears
Unto my Pray'rs, accompani'd with tears.
The Widow of Manasses lifts her voice,
Let all that put their trust in thee, rejoyce.
Behold, O God, (though Enemies may smile)
An Israelite in whom there is no guile;
To thee I trust; Experience teacheth well,
They're not all Israel are of Israel.
Th' Assyrians do multiply each hour
With Horse and man; they glory in their pow'r;
They trust in Shield, in Spear, in Bowe, and Sling,
Not knowing thee the Lord, whose breath can bring
Destruction to them all, and lay their Fame
In Ashes; God, the Lord it is thy Name.
Gird me with strength unto the Battel, Lord,
Teach me to manage Holofernes Sword;
Turn thou its edge until, at thy command,
Thy servant Judeth take it in her hand;
Then be my Battel-ax, for, Lord, with thee
I'll Kingdoms ruine, and make Nations flee:
The Horse-man and his Rider shall no more
Isr'el defie; their Captains shall adore
〈◊〉〈◊〉 no longer; for thy Rod
Shall make them understand that thou art God.
I, though a widow, have conceiv'd a pow'r;
But my designes lie harbour'd in a Bower
Of pleasing fancies: for, O Lord, at length
I must to thee for Judgment and for Strength.
Let my deceitful lips finde craft to smite
Th' Assyrian Prince, and those in him delight:
Bring down their pride, that they may understand
Thou canst work wonders by a womans hand:
For, Lord, thy power is not bound by scope,
Thou sav'st in dangers when there is no hope;
And in thy Name I'll go, and dare to do,
That those
Thy Foes
Shall fear and tremble too.