Wherefore Is It That Thou, O Lord

Wherefore is it that Thou

O Lord

Dost stand from us afar?

And where­fore hid­est Thou Thy­self

When times so troub­lous are?

The wick­ed in his lof­ti­ness

Doth per­se­cute the poor:

In these de­vic­es they have framed

Let them be tak­en sure.

The wick­ed of his heart’s de­sire

Doth talk with boast­ing great;

He bless­eth him that’s co­vet­ous

Whom yet the Lord doth hate.

The wick­ed

through his pride of face

On God he doth not call;

And in the coun­sels of his heart

The Lord is not at all.

His ways they al­ways griev­ous are;

Thy judg­ments from his sight

Removèd are: at all his foes

He puff­eth with des­pite.

Within his heart he thus hath said

I shall not mov­èd be;

And no ad­ver­si­ty at all

Shall ev­er come to me.

His mouth with curs­ing

fraud

de­ceit

Is filled abun­dant­ly;

And un­der­neath his tongue there is

Mischief and van­ity.

He clos­ely sits in vil­lag­es;

He slays the in­no­cent:

Against the poor that pass him by

His cru­el eyes are bent.

He

li­on-like

lurks in his den;

He waits the poor to take;

And when he draws him in his net

His prey he doth him make.

Himself he hum­bleth ve­ry low

He crouch­eth down with­al

That so a mul­ti­tude of poor

May by his strong ones fall.

He thus hath said with­in his heart

The Lord hath quite for­got;

He hides His coun­te­nance

and He

For ev­er sees it not.

O Lord

do Thou arise; O God

Lift up Thine hand on high:

Put not the meek af­flict­ed ones

Out of Thy me­mo­ry.

Why is it that the wick­ed man

Thus doth the Lord des­pise?

Because that God will it re­quire

He in his heart de­nies.

Thou hast it seen; for their mis­chief

And spite Thou wilt re­pay:

The poor com­mits him­self to Thee;

Thou art the or­phan’s stay.

The arm break of the wick­ed man

And of the ev­il one;

Do Thou seek out his wick­ed­ness

Until Thou find­est none.

The Lord is king through ag­es all

E’en to eter­ni­ty;

The hea­then peo­ple from His land

Are per­ished ut­ter­ly.

O Lord

of those that hum­ble are

Thou the de­sire didst hear;

Thou wilt pre­pare their heart

and Thou

To hear wilt bend Thine ear;

To judge the fa­ther­less

and those

That are op­press­èd sore;

That man

that is but sprung of earth

May them op­press no more.