Psalm 142

I cried unto the Lord with my voice; *

even unto the Lord I made my supplication.

I poured out my complaints before him, *

and showed him my trouble.

When my spirit was in heaviness you knew my path; *

in the way wherein I walked they had secretly laid a snare for me.

I looked also to my right hand *

and saw there was no one who would know me.

I had no place to flee to, *

and no one cared for my soul.

I cried out to you, O Lord, and said, *

“You are my refuge, 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 me out of prison, that I may give thanks unto your Name. *

When you show me your loving-kindness, then shall the righteous gather around me.