My God, my God, why me for­sake?
O why to me no an­swer make?
In deep dis­tress I cry, O Lord;
Why stand afar—nor help af­ford?
All day, my God, I cry in vain,
Nor can I in the night re­frain;
But Thou art ho­ly, who dost dwell
Amid the songs of Is­ra­el.

Our fa­thers put their trust in Thee,
They trust­ed and Thou didst them free;
To Thee they cried, deliverance came,
They hoped, and were not put to shame.
But I, a worm, as no man prized,
Reproached of men, by all despised;
All shake the head, they mock and gaze,
Each scorn­ful lip con­tempt be­trays.

He trusts in God; let God de­fend
And save him since He is his friend.
Thou mad’st me first the light to see,
In in­fant years to hope in Thee.
From birth de­pend­ent on Thy pow­er,
Thou art my God from child­hood’s hour;
Be not far off, for trou­ble nears,
And none to give me help ap­pears.