You snatch me up and drive me before the wind;1 you toss me about in the storm.2
I know you will bring me down to death,3 to the place appointed for all the living.4
"Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man5 when he cries for help in his distress.6
Have I not wept for those in trouble?7 Has not my soul grieved for the poor?8
Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness.9
The churning inside me never stops;10 days of suffering confront me.11
I go about blackened,12 but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.13
I have become a brother of jackals,14 a companion of owls.15
My skin grows black16 and peels;17 my body burns with fever.18
My harp is tuned to mourning,19 and my flute20 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)