Oh, that what I've requested would come and God grant my hope;
that God be willing to crush me, release his hand and cut me off.
I'd still take comfort, relieved even though in persistent pain; for I've not denied the words of the holy one.
What is my strength, that I should hope; my end, that my life should drag on?
Is my strength that of rocks, my flesh bronze?
I don't have a helper for myself; success has been taken from me.