Why stand­est Thou afar, O Lord,
Why art Thou hid in trou­ble’s hour?
The wick­ed per­se­cute the poor
In haugh­ty pride and reck­less pow­er.

Let their de­vic­es work their fall,
For in their shame is all their pride;
And while they seek un­right­eous gain
The Lord of jus­tice is de­fied.

The wick­ed thinks, in fool­ish pride,
There is no God who will re­pay;
He has no fear of God or man
Because God’s judg­ments long de­lay.

Unmoved by fear of com­ing doom,
On fraud and wick­ed­ness in­tent,
With craft he lurks and waits to catch
The help­less and the in­no­cent.

A li­on crouch­ing for his prey,
He waits the poor to ov­er­throw;
He thinks that God re­mem­bers not,
Or hides His face and will not know.

Arise, O Lord, lift up Thy hand,
O God, pro­tect the poor and meek;
Why should the proud Thy jus­tice doubt,
And words of bold de­fi­ance speak?

O Lord, Thou wilt in­deed re­quite,
The sin and sor­row Thou dost see;
The help­less and the fa­ther­less
Commit them­selves, O Lord, to Thee.

Break Thou the power of wick­ed men
And let their works no long­er stand,
The Lord is king for­ev­er­more,
Who drove the na­tions from His land.

Lord, Thou hast heard the low­ly pray­er,
The faint­ing heart Thou wilt re­store,
The help­less cause Thou wilt main­tain,
That mor­tal man may boast no more.