Save me, O God, the swell­ing floods
Break in up­on my soul;
I sink, and sor­rows o’er my head
Like migh­ty wa­ters roll.

I cry till all my voice be gone,
In tears I waste the day:
My God, be­hold my long­ing eyes,
And short­en Thy de­lay.

They hate my soul with­out a cause,
And still their num­ber grows
More than the hairs around my head,
And migh­ty are my foes.

’Twas then I paid that dread­ful debt
That men could ne­ver pay,
And gave those hon­ors to Thy law
Which sin­ners took away.

Thus in the great Mes­si­ah’s name,
The roy­al pro­phet mourns;
Thus he awakes our hearts to grief,
And gives us joy by turns.

Now shall the saints re­joice, and find
Salvation in My name;
For I have borne their hea­vy load
Of sor­row, pain, and shame.

Grief, like a gar­ment, clothed Me round,
And sack­cloth was My dress,
While I pro­cured for nak­ed souls
A robe of right­eous­ness.

Amongst My breth­ren and the Jews
I like a stran­ger stood,
And bore their vile re­proach, to bring
The Gen­tiles near to God.

I came in sin­ful mor­tals’ stead,
To do My Fa­ther’s will;
Yet when I cleansed My Fa­ther’s house,
They scan­dal­ized My zeal.

My fast­ing and My ho­ly groans
Were made the drunk­ard’s song;
But God, from His ce­les­ti­al throne,
Heard My com­plain­ing tongue.

He saved Me from the dread­ful deep,
Nor let My soul be drowned;
He raised and fixed My sink­ing feet
On well-es­tab­lished ground.

’Twas in a most ac­cept­ed hour
My pray­er arose on high;
And for My sake my God shall hear
The dy­ing sin­ner’s cry.