"Lord, be my rock, my refuge strong— Lead me through this snare-laid night!" You are my crag, my steadfast tower— Pull me from the traps they hide. Into Your hands I breathe my soul, You ransom me, O God of truth. I hate these idols, hollow, vain— But You hold all my wasted youth. See how my bones are gnawed with grief, My eyes dim from endless tears. Even my friends step back in fear, Like something dead that lingers near. But still—O Lord—I trust in You. You see my pain, You count each breath. Their plots will rot like moth-chewed cloth, While You defend me from this death. How great Your goodness, stored, concealed, For those who hide beneath Your wing! Before the world, You shield my face— Be strong, my heart—keep clinging!
