O why so far removed, O Lord,
And why so distant be;
Why hidest Thou Thy face from us
In our anxiety?
The wicked in unholy pride
The lowly poor oppress;
Let them be taken in the snare
Of their own craftiness.
The wicked in his arrogance
Refuses God to fear,
Nor is it in his thoughts at all
The sovereign God to hear.
His ways are grievous and Thy laws
Too high for him to see;
He therefore his defiance bids,
And taunts his enemy.
For he within his heart has said,
I suffer no distress,
Adversity comes not to me,
I still have had success.
In cursing and deceit and fraud
His tongue is ever skilled;
With festering iniquity
His mouth is ever filled.
He lurks in village hiding place,
And in dark corners bent,
He watches for the humble poor,
To seize the innocent.
In stealth he cowers covertly
As lion in his lair,
That he may pounce upon the poor,
And catch him in his snare.
He crouches low so that the poor
To his strong friends may fall,
And tells himself that God forgets
Or sees it not at all.
Arise, O Lord, and lift Thy hand,
The poor in memory keep.
How can the wicked blaspheme God
And say He is asleep?
For surely Thou dost see, O Lord,
Dost see the sin and spite;
And when the helpless look to Thee
Thou dost their wrong requite.
Break Thou the force of evil men,
Befriend the fatherless,
Trace out the wicked everywhere,
Uproot their wickedness.
The Lord our God is sovereign still,
The heathen all are slain.
Thou, Lord, hast heard the suppliant’s prayer
And dost his heart sustain.
No more shall boasting arrogance
Or taunting pride oppress;
The poor and orphaned Thou wilt hear
And judge with righteousness.