Psalm CXLII

I To the Lord in my distress
With [sad and] mournful voice did cry;
My supplication I sent up
[Aloud] unto the Lord most high.

To him I pour'd out my complaint,
My trouble I [to him] did show;

My spirit in me was o'rewhelm'd,
[And all] my danger thou didst know.
That in the way wherein I walk'd
They [closely] laid for me a snare;

I look'd on my right hand, but none
To know [and help] me did appear.
All humane refuge failed me,
None for my [trembling] soul did care;

But then I cryed to the Lord,
That he my [humble] suit would hear.
I said, Lord, thou my refuge art,
The portion of my [hope and] choice;
While I am in the land of life,
Where living men in thee rejoyce.

I am brought very low on earth,
[O Lord] attend unto my cry;
Me from my persecutors save,
Who stronger are [by far] than I.

And out of prison bring my soul,
Thy [blessed] name to magnifie;
The just shall flock to me, because
[With me] thou dealest bounteously.