1 In thy great indignation, Lord,
do thou rebuke me not;
nor on me lay thy chastening hand
in thy displeasure hot.
2 Lord, pity me, for I am weak;
have mercy upon me:
and heal thou me, O Lord, because
my bones much vexed be.
3 My soul is vexed sore: but, Lord,
how long stay wilt thou make?
4 Return, O Lord, my soul set free,
save for thy mercy's sake.
5 Because of thee in death there shall
no more remembrance be:
of those that in the grave do lie,
who shall give thanks to thee?
6 I with my groaning weary am;
all night till morn appears,
through grief I make my bed to swim,
my couch to flow with tears.
7 By reason of my vexing grief
mine eye consumed is;
it waxeth old, because of all
that are mine enemies.
8 But now, depart from me all ye
that work iniquity:
because the Lord hath heard my voice
when I did mourn and cry.
9 Unto my supplication's voice
the Lord hath lent his ear;
when to the Lord my prayer I make,
he graciously will hear.
10 Let all be troubled and asham'd,
that enemies are to me;
let them turn back, and suddenly
ashamed let them be.
Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymnbook #P6c