Psalm 142 (Voce mea ad Dominum)

My voice to thee it self extreamly strayning,
Cries praying, Lord, againe it crying prayeth,
Before thy face the cause of my complayning.
Before thy face my cases mapp it laieth.
Wherin my soule is painted
In doubtfull way a stranger:
But, Lord, thou art acquainted,
And knowst each path where stick the toyls of danger.
For me, mine eye to ev'ry coast directed
Lights not on one that will soe much as know me:
My life by all neglected,
Ev'n hope of help is now quite perish'd from me.

Then with good cause to thee my spirit flieth,
Flieth, and saith, O Lord, my safe abiding
Abides in thee: in thee all-only lieth
Lott of my life, and plott of my residing.
Alas, then yeeld me hearing.
For wearying woes have spent me:
And save me from their tearing,
Who hunt me hard, and daily worse torment me,
O change my state, unthrall my soule enthralled:
Of my escape then will I tell the story,
And with a crown enwalled
Of godly men, will glory in thy glory.