How long, Lord, look'st thou on? from those destructions they intend Rescue my soul, from lions young my darling do defend.
How long, Lord, wilt thou hide thyself? for ever, in thine ire? And shall thine indignation burn like unto a fire?
My soul among fierce lions is, I firebrands live among, Men's sons, whose teeth are spears and darts, a sharp sword is their tongue.
Thou hast it seen; for their mischief and spite thou wilt repay: The poor commits himself to thee; thou art the orphan's stay.
My soul is also vexed sore; But, Lord, how long stay wilt thou make?