To God my ear­nest voice I raise,
To God my voice im­plor­ing prays;
Before His face my grief I show
And tell my trou­ble and my woe.

When gloom and sor­row com­pass me,
The path I take is known to Thee,
And all the toils that foes do lay
To snare Thy ser­vant in his way.

All un­pro­tect­ed, lo, I stand,
No friend­ly guard­ian at my hand,
No place of flight or re­fuge near,
And none to whom my soul is dear.

O Lord, my Sav­ior, now to Thee,
Without a hope besides, I flee,
To Thee, my shel­ter from the strife,
My por­tion in the land of life.

Be Thou my help when trou­bles throng,
For I am weak and foes are strong;
My cap­tive soul from pri­son bring,
And thank­ful prais­es I will sing.

The right­eous then shall ga­ther round
To share the bless­ing I have found,
Their hearts made glad be­cause they see
How rich­ly God has dealt with me.