1 I with my voice cry'd to the Lord,with it made my request:
2 Pour'd out to him my plaint, to himmy trouble I exprest.
3 When in me was o'erwhelm'd my sp'rit,then well thou knew'st my way;Where I did walk a snare for methey privily did lay.
4 I look'd on my right hand, and view'd,but none to know me were;All refuge failed me, no mandid for my soul take care.
5 I cry'd to thee; I said, Thou artmy refuge, Lord, alone;And in the land of those that livethou art my portion.
6 Because I am brought very low,attend unto my cry:Me from my persecutors save,who stronger are than I.
7 From prison bring my soul, that Ithy name may glorify:The just shall compass me, when thouwith me deal'st bounteously.