O God, my re­fuge, hear my cries,
Behold my flow­ing tears;
For earth and hell my hurt de­vise,
And tri­umph in my fears.

Their rage is le­veled at my life,
My soul with guilt they load,
And fill my thoughts with in­ward strife,
To shake my hope in God.

With in­ward pain my heart-strings sound,
I groan with ev­ery breath;
Horror and fear be­set me round
Amongst the shades of death.

O were I like a fea­thered dove,
And in­no­cence had wings,
I’d fly, and make a long re­move
From all these rest­less things.

Let me to some wild de­sert go,
And find a peace­ful home;
Where storms of mal­ice ne­ver blow,
Temptations ne­ver come.

Vain hopes, and vain in­vent­ions all
To ’scape the rage of hell!
The migh­ty God on whom I call,
Can save me here as well.

By morn­ing light I’ll seek His face,
At noon re­peat my cry;
The night shall hear me ask His grace,
Nor will He long de­ny.

God shall pre­serve my soul from fear,
Or shield me when afraid;
Ten thou­sand angels must ap­pear,
If He com­mand their aid.

I cast my bur­dens on the Lord,
The Lord sus­tains them all;
My cour­age rests up­on His Word,
That saints shall ne­ver fall.

My high­est hopes shall not be vain,
My lips shall spread His praise;
While cru­el and de­ceit­ful men
Scarce live out half their days.