Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 To God, with mournful voice, in deep distress I prayed; 2 Made him the umpire of my cause, my wrongs before him laid.
3 Thou didst my steps direct, when my grieved soul despaired; For where I thought to walk secure, they had their traps prepared.
4 I looked, but found no friend to own me in distress: All refuge failed, no man vouchsafed his pity or redress.
5 To God at last I prayed; thou, Lord, my refuge art, My portion in the land of life, till life itself depart.
6 Reduced to greatest straits, to thee I make my moan: O save me from oppressing foes, for me too pow'rful grown.
7 That I may praise thy name, my soul from prison bring; Whilst of thy kind regard to me assembled saints shall sing.