I am bent over and racked with pain. All day long I walk around filled with grief.
I walk in gloom, without sunlight. I stand in the public square and cry for help.
My body is covered with maggots and scabs. My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.
Some were fools; they rebelled and suffered for their sins.
The Lord helps the fallen and lifts those bent beneath their loads.
I am dying from grief; my years are shortened by sadness. Sin has drained my strength; I am wasting away from within.
I was sad, as though they were my friends or family, as if I were grieving for my own mother.
Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again— my Savior and
“O God my rock,” I cry, “why have you forgotten me? Why must I wander around in grief, oppressed by my enemies?”
For you are God, my only safe haven. Why have you tossed me aside? Why must I wander around in grief, oppressed by my enemies?
My enemies have set a trap for me. I am weary from distress. They have dug a deep pit in my path, but they themselves have fallen into it. Interlude
I am worn out from sobbing. All night I flood my bed with weeping, drenching it with my tears.
My eyes are blinded by my tears. Each day I beg for your help, O Lord; I lift my hands to you for mercy.
Delirious, I chattered like a swallow or a crane, and then I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew tired of looking to heaven for help. I am in trouble, Lord. Help me!”