Why standest Thou afar, O Lord,
Why art Thou hid in trouble's hour?
The wicked persecute the poor
In haughty pride and reckless pow'r
Let their devices work their fall,
For in their shame is all their pride;
And while they seek unrighteous gain
The Lord of justice is defied.
The wicked thinks in foolish pride,
There is no God Who will repay;
He has no fear of God or man
Because God's judgments long delay.
Unmoved by fear of coming doom,
On fraud and wickedness intent,
With craft he lurks and waits to catch
The helpless and the innocent.
A lion crouching for his prey,
He waits the poor to overthrow;
He thinks that God remembers not,
Or hides His face and will not know.
Arise, O Lord, lift up Thy hand,
O God, protect the poor and meek;
Why should the proud Thy justice doubt,
And words of bold defiance speak?
O Lord, Thou wilt indeed requite,
The sin and sorrow Thou dost see;
The helpless and the fatherless
Commit themselves, O Lord, to Thee.
Break Thou the pow'r of wicked men
And let their works no longer stand;
The Lord is King for evermore,
Who drove the nations from His land.
Lord, Thou hast heard the lowly prayer,
The fainting heart Thou wilt restore,
The helpless cause Thou wilt maintain,
That mortal man may boast no more.
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