With my voice I cry to the Lord; with my voice I make supplication to the Lord.
I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him.
When my spirit is faint, you know my way. In the path where I walk they have hidden a trap for me.
Look on my right hand and see— there is no one who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for me.
I cry to you, O Lord; I say, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living."
Give heed to my cry, for I am brought very low. Save me from my persecutors, for they are too strong for me.