Jehovah, to my pray­er give ear,
Nor hide Thee from my cry;
Attend my sad com­plaint, and hear
My rest­less moan and sigh.
My ene­mies lift up their voice,
The vio­lent op­press;
To do me wrong my foes re­joice,
And love my soul’s dis­tress.

Sore pained in heart I find no ease,
Death’s ter­rors fill my soul,
Great fear and trem­bling on me seize,
And hor­rors o’er me roll.
O had I wings, I sigh and say,
Like some swift dove to roam,
Then I would hast­en far away
And a find a peace­ful home.

Lo, wan­der­ing far, my rest would be
In some lone de­sert waste;
I from the stor­my wind would flee,
And to a shel­ter haste.
O Lord, their mal­ice re­com­pense
Their wick­ed tongues con­found,
For in the ci­ty vio­lence
And bit­ter strife abound.

They walk her walls both night and day,
Within all vic­es meet;
Oppression, fraud and crime hold sway,
Nor leave the crowd­ed street.
No for­eign foe pro­vokes alarm,
But ene­mies with­in;
May God de­stroy their pow­er to harm
And re­com­pense their sin.