Psalm 142

With my voice—to God, make I outcry, With my voice—to God, make I supplication:

I pour out before him my complaint, My distress—before him, I tell.

When my spirit fainted concerning myself, then, thou, didst take note of my path,—In the course which I was about to take, they had hidden a snare for me.

Look to the right hand and see, that there is none that, for me, hath regard,—Escape is lost to me, There is no one to care for my life.

I have made outcry unto thee, O God,—I have said, Thou, art my refuge, my portion, in the land of the living.

Attend thou unto my loud cry, for I am brought very low,—Rescue me from my pursuers, for they are stronger than I.

O bring forth, out of prison, my soul, That I may give thanks unto thy Name,—About me, let the righteous gather round, for thou wilt deal bountifully with me.