Many were his foes
Of David, a song
For his life, like a flea
Fled from Absalom
LORD, how many
Rise up in a rim
Saying of me
“God won’t deliver him.”
But you, O LORD are
My shield around
My glory, afar
The One, still crowned
I call out to you
Holy and nigh
You lift my head
Your mountain high
I will not fear
I sleep and wake
Sustained by Him
The thousands quake
I am assailed
On every side
Arise, O LORD!
My God, my guide!
Deliver me!
Strick the jaw
My enemy!
Their teeth that roar
Wickedness break
Deliver me!
Bless your people
I look to thee!
PSALM 3 - David displaced from Family, Home and Church
(2 Samuel 15)
