You turn on me ruthlessly;1 with the might of your hand2 you attack me.3
You snatch me up and drive me before the wind;4 you toss me about in the storm.5
I know you will bring me down to death,6 to the place appointed for all the living.7
"Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man8 when he cries for help in his distress.9
Have I not wept for those in trouble?10 Has not my soul grieved for the poor?11
Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness.12
The churning inside me never stops;13 days of suffering confront me.14
I go about blackened,15 but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.16
I have become a brother of jackals,17 a companion of owls.18
My skin grows black19 and peels;20 my body burns with fever.21
My harp is tuned to mourning,22 and my flute23 to the sound of wailing.
Scripture quoted by permission. Quotations designated (NIV) are from THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica. All rights reserved worldwide.
(New International Version Bible Online)