To God for help will I re­pair,
To God will I direct my pray­er,
And sure­ly He will an­swer me,
His great sal­va­tion I shall see.

In long-con­tinued grief I stand
And seek the Lord with out­stretched hand;
I find no com­fort for my soul,
The clouds of dark­ness o’er me roll.

I think of God and call to mind
His good­ness, yet no peace I find;
I still pour out my sad com­plaints,
My bur­dened spi­rit almost faints.

With sleep­less eyes and speech­less grief
I search the past to find relief,
The for­mer years when days were bright
And songs of glad­ness cheered my night.

My con­stant me­di­ta­tions bring
My heart to an­xious quest­ion­ing:
Hast God cast off, and will He be
No long­er mer­ci­ful to me?

Has God for­got­ten to be kind?
Shall I His pro­mise faith­less find?
For me shall wrath hence­forth re­place
His ten­der mer­cies and His grace?

In weak­ness I was pressed with fear,
But bet­ter hopes my spi­rit cheer;
Past mer­cies lead me to re­ly
Upon the help of God Most High.

Thy deeds, O Lord, will I re­late
And on Thy won­ders me­di­tate;
Thy way, O God, is just and right,
And none is like to Thee in might.

Among the na­tions Thou hast shown
Thy won­drous pow­er and made it known;
Thou art the God that migh­ti­ly
Redeemed and set Thy peo­ple free.

At sight of Thee the wa­ters fled,
The quak­ing clouds their tor­rents shed,
The light­nings flashed, the thun­der pealed,
The trem­bling earth her fear re­vealed.

Thy way, O God, was in the sea,
But, though Thy paths mys­te­ri­ous be,
Thy peo­ple Thou didst safe­ly keep
As shep­herds lead their help­less sheep.