The Whole Book of Psalms ‎#LXXXVIII

LXXXVIII. Lord God of health, the hope and stay

1 Lord God of health, the hope and stay
thou art alone to me,
I call and cry throughout the day,
and all the night to thee.

2 O let my pray'r with speed ascend
unto thy sight on high,
Incline thine ear, O Lord, attend,
and hearken to my cry.

3 For why? with wo my heart is fill'd,
and doth in trouble dwell,
My life and breath doth almost yield,
and draweth nigh to hell.

4 I am esteem'd as one of them,
that in the pit do fall,
And made as one among those men
that have no strength at all;

5 As one among the dead, and free
from things, that here remain;
It were more ease for me to be
with them, the which are slain;

6 As those that lie in grave, I say,
whom thou hast clean forgot,
The which thy hand hath cut away,
and thou regard'st them not;

7 Yea, like to one shut up full sure
within the lowest pit,
In darksome place and all obscure,
and in the depth of it.

8 Thy anger and thy wrath likewise
full sore on me do lie,
And all thy storms against me rise,
my soul to vex and try.

9 Thou putt'st my friends far off from me,
and mak'st them hate me sore;
I am shut up in prison fast,
and can come forth no more.

10 My sight doth fail, through grief and wo,
I call to thee, O God,
Throughout the day my hands also
to thee I stretch abroad.

The Second Part.

11 Dost thou unto the dead declare
thy wondrous works of fame?
Shall dead to life again repair,
and praise thee for the same?

12 Or shall thy loving-kindness, Lord,
be shewed in the grave?
Or shall with them, that are destroy'd
thy truth her honour have?

13 Shall they that lie in dark full low
see all thy wonders great?
Or there shall they thy justice know,
where men all things forget?

14 But I, O Lord, to thee alway
do cry and call apace,
My pray'r also ere it be day
shall come before thy face.

15 Why dost thou, Lord, abhor my soul
in grief, that seeketh thee?
And now, O Lord, why dost thou hide
thy face away from me?

16 I am afflicted, dying still
from youth many a year,
Thy terrors which do work me ill
with troubled mind I bear:

17 The furies of thy wrathful rage
full sore upon me lie.
Thy terrors they do not asswage,
but press me heavily;

18 All day they compass me about,
as water at the tide,
And all at once with streams full great
beset me on each side.

19 Thou settest far from me my friends
and lovers ev'ry one;
Yea, and my old acquaintance all
out of my sight are gone.

Text Information

• First Line: Lord God of health, the hope and stay
• Author: J. H.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1790
• Scripture:
  Psalm 88

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