Psalm 142

With sighes and cries to God I praid;
To him my supplication made;
Pour'd out my teares,
My cares and feares;
My wrongs before him laid.

My fainting spirits almost spent:
He knew the path in which I went.
Yet in my way
Their snares they lay,
With mercilesse intent.

My Eyes I round about me throw;
None see, that will th'Oppressed know;
No refuge left;
Of hope bereft;
Vaine pity none bestow.

Then unto God I cri'd, and said,
Thou art my Hope, and onely Aid;
The Portion
I build upon,
While with fraile flesh araid.

O Sourse of Mercy, heare my cry,
Lest I with wasting sorrow die:
Shield from my foes,
Who now inclose;
Since of more strength then I.

My Soule out of this Prison bring,
That I may praise thee, O my King.
Who trust in thee,
Shall compasse me,
And of thy Bounty sing.