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PSALM 142

C. M.

God is the hope of the helpless.

258

To God I made my sorrows known,

From God I sought relief;

In long complaints before his throne

I poured out all my grief.

My soul was overwhelmed with woes,

My heart began to break;

My God, who all my burden knows,

He knows the way I take.

On every side I cast mine eye,

And found my helpers gone;

While friends and strangers passed me by,

Neglected or unknown.

Then did I raise a louder cry,

And called thy mercy near,-

"Thou art my portion when I die;

Be thou my refuge here."

Lord, I am brought exceeding low,

Now let thine ear attend,

And make my foes who vex me know

I've an almighty Friend.

From my sad prison set me free,

Then shall I praise thy name,

And holy men shall join with me

Thy kindness to proclaim.

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