O Lord, upon me mercy have, for trouble is on me: Mine eye, my belly, and my soul, with grief consumed be.
Mine eye, consum'd with grief, grows old, Because of all mine enemies.
By reason of affliction mine eye mourns dolefully: To thee, Lord, do I call, and stretch my hands continually.
My flesh and heart doth faint and fail, but God doth fail me never: For of my heart God is the strength and portion for ever.
Such as shut up in darkness deep, and in death's shade abide, Whom strongly hath affliction bound, and irons fast have ty'd:
For daily, and all day throughout, great plagues I suffer'd have; Yea, ev'ry morning I of new did chastisement receive.
Which my lips utter'd, my mouth spake, when trouble on me lay.
And our oppression? For our soul is to the dust down press'd: Our belly also on the earth fast cleaving, hold doth take.
According to my righteousness he did me recompense, He me repaid according to my hands' pure innocence.
Mine en'mies I pursued have, and did them overtake; Nor did I turn again till I an end of them did make.