6 God counts the sorrows of his saints, Their groans affect his ears; Thou hast a book for my complaints, A bottle for my tears.
7 When to thy throne I raise my cry The wicked fear and flee; So swift is prayer to reach the sky, So near is God to me.
8 In thee, most holy, just, and true, I have repos'd my trust; Nor will I fear what man can do, The offspring of the dust.
9 Thy solemn vows are on me, Lord, Thou shalt receive my praise; I'll sing, "how faithful is thy word, "How righteous all thy ways!"
10 Thou hast secur'd my soul from death; O set thy prisoner free, That heart and hand, and life and breath May be employ'd for thee.