I said, “So I must go away, * my life half spent,

    assigned to the world below * for the rest of my years.”

    I said, “No more shall I see Yahweh * in the land of the living;

no more shall I look upon men * within this world.”

    My home is pulled up and removed * like a shepherd's tent.

    Like a weaver you have rolled up my life, * you cut it from the loom.

       From morning till night you torment me; * I cry with pain until dawn.

       Like a lion breaking my bones, * you torment me the whole day long.

       I cry out in sorrow like a swallow, * I mourn like a dove.

       My eyes are drooping, O Heaven. * I am in trouble; take care of me, Lord...

    You have held back my life * from the pit of doom.

    You have cast far from your sight * every one of my sins.

For Sheol below cannot thank you, * nor death give you praise.

Those who go down to the grave * cannot hope for your mercy.

    Only the living can thank you * as I do this day.

    The father shall tell his children * of your faithful mercy.

Lord, come to our rescue, * and we shall make music

all the days of our life * in the house of the Lord.