And I will say to God my rock, Why me forgett'st thou so? Why, for my foes' oppression, thus mourning do I go?
I troubled am, and much bow'd down; all day I mourning go.
For thou the God art of my strength; why thrusts thou me thee fro'? For th' enemy's oppression why do I mourning go?
My fortress is the Lord, My rock, and he that doth to me deliverance afford: My God, my strength, whom I will trust, a buckler unto me, The horn of my salvation, and my high tow'r, is he.
He only my salvation is, and my strong rock is he: He only is my sure defence; much mov'd I shall not be.
To thee I'll cry, O Lord, my rock; hold not thy peace to me; Lest like those that to pit descend I by thy silence be.
By reason of affliction mine eye mourns dolefully: To thee, Lord, do I call, and stretch my hands continually.
And that the Lord had been their Rock, they did remember then; Ev'n that the high almighty God had their Redeemer been.
Is't true that to be gracious the Lord forgotten hath? And that his tender mercies he hath shut up in his wrath?
Because of th' en'my's voice, and for lewd men's oppression great: On me they cast iniquity, and they in wrath me hate.
How long wilt thou forget me, Lord? shall it for ever be? O how long shall it be that thou wilt hide thy face from me?
On a ten-stringed instrument, upon the psaltery, And on the harp with solemn sound, and grave sweet melody.