Forlorn C.M.

Why has my God my soul forsook,
Nor will a smile afford?
(Thus David once in anguish spoke,
And thus our dying Lord.)

Though ’tis thy chief delight to dwell
Among thy praising saints,
Yet thou canst hear a groan as well,
And pity our complaints.

Our fathers trusted in thy name,
And great deliv'rance found;
But I’m a worm despis'd of men,
And trodden to the ground.

With shaking head they pass me by,
And laugh my soul to scorn;
"In vain he trusts in God," they cry,
Neglected and forlorn.