Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
My interpreter `is' my friend, Unto God hath mine eye dropped:
My brethren from me He hath put far off, And mine acquaintances surely Have been estranged from me.
There the wicked have ceased troubling, And there rest do the wearied in power.
Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days `are' vanity.
So I have been caused to inherit months of vanity, And nights of misery they numbered to me.
The Lord Jehovah hath given to me The tongue of taught ones, To know to aid the weary `by' a word, He waketh morning by morning, He waketh for me an ear to hear as taught ones.
And I also, I have begun to smite thee, To make desolate, because of thy sins.