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Unto my earnest prayer give ear, nor hide Thee, O most High,
Attend my sad complaint and hear my mourning bitter cry.
Because of sinful men I weep, and persecuting foes;
Who wickedness upon me heap, in wrath opposing me.

Sore pain in heart I find no ease, death's terrors fill my soul,
Great fear and trembling on me seize and horrors o'er me roll.
O had I wings, I sigh and say, like some swift dove to roam,
Then would I hasten far away, and find a peaceful home.

Lo, wand'ring far, my rest should be in some lone desert waste;
I from the windy storm would flee and from the tempest haste.
Destroyed, Eternal, let them be; divide confuse their tongue;
For in the city, lo, I see great strife and grievous wrong.