(A maskil. Of David, when he was in the cave. A prayer.)

Loud is my cry to the Lord, the prayer I utter for the Lord’s mercy,

as I pour out my complaint before him, tell him of the affliction I endure.

My heart is ready to faint within me, but thou art watching over my path. They lie in ambush for me, there by the wayside;

I look to the right of me, and find none to take my part; all hope of escape is cut off from me, none is concerned for my safety.

To thee, Lord, I cry, claiming thee for my only refuge, all that is left me in this world of living men.

Listen, then, to my plea; thou seest me all defenceless. Rescue me from persecutors who are too strong for me; restore liberty to a captive soul.

What thanks, then, will I give to thy name, honest hearts all about me, rejoicing to see thy favour restored!