Whenever we're sick and in bed, God becomes our nurse, nurses us back to health.
I said, "God, be gracious! Put me together again - my sins have torn me to pieces."
My enemies are wishing the worst for me; they make bets on what day I will die.
If someone comes to see me, he mouths empty platitudes, All the while gathering gossip about me to entertain the street-corner crowd.
These "friends" who hate me whisper slanders all over town. They form committees to plan misery for me.
The rumor goes out, "He's got some dirty, deadly disease. The doctors have given up on him."
Even my best friend, the one I always told everything - he ate meals at my house all the time! - has bitten my hand.
God, give grace, get me up on my feet. I'll show them a thing or two.
Meanwhile, I'm sure you're on my side - no victory shouts yet from the enemy camp!
You know me inside and out, you hold me together, you never fail to stand me tall in your presence so I can look you in the eye.
Blessed is God, Israel's God, always, always, always. Yes. Yes. Yes.