¹I with my voice cry’d to the Lord,

with it made my request:

²Pour’d out to him my plaint, to him

my trouble I exprest.

³When in me was o’erwhelm’d my sp’rit,

then well thou knew’st my way;

Where I did walk a snare for me

they privily did lay.

⁴I look’d on my right hand, and view’d,

but none to know me were;

All refuge failed me, no man

did for my soul take care.

⁵I cry’d to thee; I said, Thou art

my refuge, Lord, alone;

And in the land of those that live

thou art my portion.

⁶Because I am brought very low,

attend unto my cry:

Me from my persecutors save,

who stronger are than I.

⁷From prison bring my soul, that I

thy name may glorify:

The just shall compass me, when thou

with me deal’st bounteously.