Psalm 38

Amidst thy wrath remember love,

Restore thy servant, Lord;

Nor let a father's chastening prove

Like an avenger's sword.

Thine arrows stick within my heart,

My flesh is sorely prest;

Between the sorrow and the smart

My spirit finds no rest.

My sins a heavy load appear,

And o'er my head are gone;

Too heavy they for me to bear,

Too hard for me t' atone.

My thoughts are like a troubled sea,

My head still bending down;

And I go mourning all the day

Beneath my Father's frown.

Lord, I am weak, and broken sore,

None of my powers are whole;

The inward anguish makes me roar,

The anguish of my soul.

All my desire to thee is known,

Thine eye counts every tear,

And every sigh, and every groan

Is notic'd by thine ear.

Thou art my God, my only hope;

My God will hear my cry;

My God will bear my spirit up

When Satan bids me die.

[My foot is ever apt to slide,

My foes rejoice to see't;

They raise their pleasure and their pride

When they supplant my feet.

But I'll confess my guilt to thee,

And grieve for all my sin,

I'll mourn how weak my graces be,

And beg support divine.

My God, forgive my follies past,

And be for ever nigh;

O Lord of my salvation, haste,

Before thy servant die.]