Psalm 88

O Lord, that art the God to me
of my salvation,
I have cry'd day and night to thee
in pray'r, and made my moan.
Before thee let my prayer come,
hearken unto my cry.
My soul is troubled sore, my life
unto the grave draws nigh.

I counted am as one of those
that to the pit descend,
As a weak man they me esteem,
and one that hath no friend.
Shut out as one dead, like the slain
that lie in grave forgot,
Quite cut off from thine hand and care,
whom thou remembrest not.

In a most loathsome dungeon thou
hast laid me down below,
In darknesse and in dang'rous deeps
that do me overflow.
Thy fearful indignation
upon me hard doth lie,
Thou with thy waves and billows dost
afflict me grievously.

My friends thou hast put far from me,
to them I loathsome grow,
I am with griefs so compass'd in,
that forth I cannot goe.
Because of mine affliction, Lord,
I daily mourn for grief,
I daily call and stretch my hands
to thee for some relief.

The Second Part.

Those that are dead, Lord, wilt thou cause
thy wondrous works to see?
Shall they arise out of their graves,
and praises give to thee?
Shall all thy loving kindnesses
men in the grave declare?
Or they speak of thy faithfulnesse
that in destruction are?

Shall in the darknesse be made known
thy wonders manifold?
In the land of oblivion, shall
thy righteousnesse be told?
But unto thee do I O Lord,
daily lift up my cry,
And in the morning with my pray'r
prevent thy face will I.

Why dost thou then, O Lord, in wrath
cast off my soul from thee?
And why the favour of thy face
dost thou thus hide from mee?
I am afflicted from my youth,
and ready still to die,
Thy terrours which I suffer, still
distract me fearfully.

The fiercenesse of thy wrath like waves
hath clean gone over me,
Thy terrours have me quite cut off
which I suffer from thee.
Like over-flowing waters still
they round about me came,
And by them all together met
encompassed I am.

My friends and such as did me love,
thou hast put far from me,
And into darknesse them remov'd,
that mine acquaintance be.