God Is the Hope of the Hopeless

Isaac Watts

To God I made my sorrows known,
From God I sought relief;
In long complaints before his throne
I poured out all my grief.

My soul was overwhelmed with woes,
My heart began to break;
My God, who all my burden knows,
He knows the way I take.

On every side I cast mine eye,
And found my helpers gone;
While friends and strangers passed me by,
Neglected or unknown.

Then did I raise a louder cry,
And called thy mercy near,-
“Thou art my portion when I die;
Be thou my refuge here.”

Lord, I am brought exceeding low,
Now let thine ear attend,
And make my foes who vex me know
I’ve an almighty Friend.

From my sad prison set me free,
Then shall I praise thy name,
And holy men shall join with me
Thy kindness to proclaim.