David prays for preservation from his persecutors.
I cried unto the Lord with my voice; with my voice unto the Lord did I make my supplication.2I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my trouble.3When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path. In the way wherein I walked have they privily laid a snare for me.4I looked on my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul.3
5I cried unto thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living.6Attend unto my cry; for I am brought very low: deliver me from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I.7Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name: the righteous shall compass me about; for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.