These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.
Her foes have become the masters; her enemies prosper because the Lord has made her suffer for the multitude of her transgressions; her children have gone away, captives before the foe.
Her uncleanness was in her skirts; she took no thought of her future; her downfall was appalling, with none to comfort her. Look, O Lord, at my affliction, for the enemy has triumphed!
He was indeed so ill that he nearly died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I would not have one sorrow after another.