Classic Poem

O Lord! my bosom heaves with fears,
Mine eyes are quench'd with constant tears;
My friends forsake, my patrons flee,
My kinsmen dread my face to see.

With snares and fraud and cruel strife,
My foes conspire against my life;
I totter on the brink of death,
And constant anguish wastes my breath.

On thee, O Lord, my God! I wait,
To plead my cause against the great;
Let not my lordly foes exult,
And in my bondage thee insult.

Forsake me not, O Lord, my God!
I seek thine all-sustaining rod;
Break off my chains, thy succor bring,
Make haste to help me, God, my King!