1 "Why has my God my soul forsook, "Nor will a smile afford?" (Thus David once in anguish spoke, And thus our dying Lord.)
2 Tho' 'tis thy chief delight to dwell Among thy praising saints, Yet thou canst hear a groan as well, And pity our complaints.
3 Our fathers trusted in thy name, And great deliverance found; But I'm a worm, despis'd of men, And trodden to the ground.
4 Shaking the head they pass me by, And laugh my soul to scorn; "In vain he trusts in God" they cry, "Neglected and forlorn."
5 But thou art he who form'd my flesh By thine almighty word, And since I hung upon the breast, My hope is in the Lord.
6 Why will my Father hide his face, When foes stand threatening round, In the dark hour of deep distress, And not an helper found?