For not for ever is the needy forgotten, The hope of the humble lost to the age.
He turned unto the prayer of the destitute, And He hath not despised their prayer.
To hear the groan of the prisoner, To loose sons of death,
For He standeth at the right hand of the needy, To save from those judging his soul.
Because of the spoiling of the poor, Because of the groaning of the needy, Now do I arise, saith Jehovah, I set in safety `him who' doth breathe for it.
Dost Thou slay, O God, the wicked? Then, men of blood, turn aside from me!
Understand this, I pray you, Ye who are forgetting God, Lest I tear, and there is no deliverer.
For Thou `art' my hope, O Lord Jehovah, My trust from my youth.
He judgeth the poor of the people, Giveth deliverance to the sons of the needy, And bruiseth the oppressor.
For He who is seeking for blood Them hath remembered, He hath not forgotten the cry of the afflicted.
For, is there a posterity? Then thy hope is not cut off.
So `is' the knowledge of wisdom to thy soul, If thou hast found that there is a posterity And thy hope is not cut off.
The hungry He did fill with good, And the rich He sent away empty,
And he, having lifted up his eyes to his disciples, said: `Happy the poor -- because yours is the reign of God.
Hearken, my brethren beloved, did not God choose the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the reign that He promised to those loving Him?