O Thou, whose captain I account myself,
[♦] Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
110 Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
[♦] That they may crush down with a heavy fall
[♦] The usurping helmets of our adversaries!
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
[♦] That we may praise thee in the victory!
115 To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
[♦] Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! [Sleeps.