Give us help from distress, For the help of man is naught.
While we exist, our eyes are consumed, Watching vainly for our help. In our watch-tower we watched for a nation That could not save.
And the Mitsrites are men, and not Ě
Cease from man, whose breath is in his nostrils, for in what is he to be reckoned upon?
“I have heard many matters like these; all of you are comforters of trouble!
Eloah does not turn back His dis-pleasure, the helpers of pride stoop under Him.