I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
*Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard. I cry for help, but there is no justice.
Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
I am pained and bowed down greatly. I go mourning all day long.
I will ask God, my rock, *Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?*
For you are the God of my strength. Why have you rejected me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?