I lift my voice to cry unto the Lord

I lift my voice to cry unto the Lord; 

I raise my pleading to my God on high.

I tell my trouble to the Holy One

Who knows my fainting soul and fearful sigh.

When I go out and danger lies in wait,

See, there is none to care or comfort show.

No refuge comes before my weary eye;

Hear, Lord, for I am brought down grieving low.

I cry to you, my refuge and my hope,

To save and keep me from the ones who hate,

Oh, hear my weeping and my anxious call,

And lead me from this fearful prison’s gate.

O God, I give you all my thanks and praise,

For you will ever work for good in me;

You are my strength as long as I shall live,

And you my hope for all eternity.

TEXT: Charles Spence Freeman, 2020, after Psalm 142

MUSIC: Suggested tunes:

            SURSUM CORDA (Smith), Alfred Morton Smith, 1941

                        (permission not available for reproduction)

            Or  MORECAMBE, Frederick Cook Atkinson, 1870

The ongoing enforced isolation keeps driving me to darker and more obscure psalms. Apparently Psalm 142 wasn't deemed suitable for lectionary use (though I would think anyone working in prison ministry might find it useful), but it may resonate in the current moment, even if the "persecutors" of the psalm's text are more internal than external. (On the other hand, the "ones who hate" are sadly too real and too plentiful today.) I've tagged it as a lament, though it isn't strictly so, because frankly at this moment it's close enough. As is usually the case with the darker psalms, the note of hope comes at the end, which I have taken the liberty of expressing as one both for "as long as I live" and "for all eternity."