Give us help from distress, For the help of man is naught.
“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.
Cease from man, whose breath is in his nostrils, for in what is he to be reckoned upon?
And the Mitsrites are men, and not Ě
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.