Mercy and judg­ment are my song;
And since they both to Thee be­long,
My gra­cious God, my right­eous king,
To Thee my songs and vows I bring.

If I am raised to bear the sword,
I’ll take my coun­sels from Thy Word;
Thy jus­tice and Thy heav’n­ly grace
Shall be the pat­tern of my ways.

Let wis­dom all my act­ions guide
And let my God with me re­side;
No wick­ed thing shall dwell with me,
Which may pro­voke Thy jeal­ou­sy.

No sons of slan­der, rage, and strife
Shall be com­panions of my life;
The haugh­ty look, the heart of pride
Within my doors shall ne’er abide.

I’ll search the land, and raise the just
To posts of hon­or, wealth, and trust:
The men that work Thy ho­ly will
Shall be my friends and fa­vo­rites still.

In vain shall sin­ners hope to rise
By flat­tering or ma­li­cious lies;
And while the in­no­cent I guard,
The bold of­fend­er shan’t be spared.

The im­pi­ous crew, that fact­ious band,
Shall hide their heads or quit the land;
And all that break the pub­lic rest,
Where I have pow­er shall be sup­pressed.