Psalm 142

I cried unto the Lord with my voice  *

yea, even unto the Lord did I make my supplication.

I poured out my complaints before him *

and shewed him of my trouble.

When my spirit was in heaviness thou knewest my path *

in the way wherein I walked have they privily laid a snare for me.

I looked also upon my right hand *

and saw there was no man that would know me.

I had no place to flee unto *

and no man cared for my soul.

I cried unto thee, O Lord, and said *

Thou art my hope, and my portion in the land of the living.

Consider my complaint *

for I am brought very low.

O deliver me from my persecutors *

for they are too strong for me.

Bring my soul out of prison, that I may give thanks unto thy Name *

which thing if thou wilt grant me, then shall the righteous resort unto my company.