Even my bones are in pain, while all day long my enemies sneer and ask, “Where is your God?”
Day and night my tears are my only food, as everyone keeps asking, “Where is your God?”
Tell my servants, the priests, to cry inside the temple and to offer this prayer near the altar: “Save your people, Lord God! Don't let foreign nations make jokes about us. Don't let them laugh and ask, ‘Where is your God?’ ”
and you, Mary, will suffer as though you had been stabbed by a dagger. But all this will show what people are really thinking.”
You, my enemies, said, “The Lord God is helpless.” Now each of you will be disgraced and put to shame. I will see you trampled like mud in the street.
Sharp words cut like a sword, but words of wisdom heal.
I run to you for protection. Why do you turn me away? Why must enemies mistreat me and make me sad?
My heart is racing fast, and I am afraid of dying.
Why have you forgotten us for so long?