O Lord, I Call on Thee

O LORD, I call on Thee when sore dismayed,

Thou wilt hear my voice and lend me aid,

Nor shall I be of myriads afraid,

For Thou wilt ever be

The portion of my lot—Thou savest me.

In troubled times Thy mercy’s plenteous store

Is full to overflowing evermore,

And when in straitness I my plaint outpour

With words entreating Thee,

Then with enlargement Thou dost answer me.

Make known Thy love to those who trust and pray,

To those who hold Thy name their help and stay,

Waiting for Thy salvation day by day,

Yea, who, O Lord, but Thee

Shall make me glad, who else deliver me?

Do Thou from heavenly heights my pain behold,

And lead me back unto Thy sheltering fold,

That I may answer scorners as of old;

Yea, though my dwelling be

In darkest night, God is a light to me.