Psalm CXLII

To God, the refuge of his saints,
I humbly breath'd my ardent prayer,
And pour'd out all my long complaints,
And spread before him every care.

My spirit overwhelm'd with grief,
Surrounding snares beset my way;
Of thee, O Lord, I sought relief,
Whose eyes my devious path survey.

All other helps I found were vain,
And hope, and friends, and comfort fail'd;
To thee alone I told my pain,
While yet my potent fears prevail'd.

To thee my God, I breath'd my cries,
Dear refuge of my fainting heart;
Thou all on whom my hope relies,
I am undone if thou depart.

Thou see'st. me wretched, weak and low;
O Lord, attend my plaintive cry,
And save me from my every foe:
My foes how strong! how weak am I!

O free my soul, dissolve the chain,
Then shall I spread thy praise abroad;
Thy saints shall join the cheerful strain,
And speak the bounties of my God,