My voice to thee itself extremely straining,
Cries praying, Lord, again it crying prayeth:
Before they face the cause of my complaining,
Before thy face my case’s map it layeth
Wherein my soul is painted
In doubtful way a stranger:
But, Lord, thou art acquainted,
And knowst each path, where stick the toils of danger.
For me, mine eye to ev’ry coast directed
Lights no on one that will so much as know me:
My life by all neglected,
Ev’n hope of help is now quite perish’d from me.
Then with good cause to thee my spirit fly-eth,
Fly-eth, and say-eth: O Lord my safe abiding
Abides in thee: in thee all-only lie-eth
Lot of my life, and plot of my residing.
Alas, then yield me hearing,
For wearing woes have spent me:
And save me from their tearing,
Who hunt me hard, and daily worse torment me.
O change my state, unthrall my soul enthralled:
Of my escape then will I tell the story:
And with a crown enwalled
Of godly men, will glory in thy glory.

—modernized by Kimbol Soques, included in Before the door of God : an anthology of devotional poetry / Hopler, Jay ed.; Johnson, Kimberly ed., p. 107