Psalm 69 Friday Readings 3
Save me, God, * for the waters have reached my neck.
I have sunk into the abysmal Mire * where there is no footing.
I have entered the bottomless waters * where the vortex engulfs me.
I am wearied by my crying; * my throat is hoarse.
My eyes grow bleary * as I wait, my God.
More numerous than the hairs on my head * are my stealthy enemies.
Many more than my hair * are my deceitful foes.
What I did not steal, * this must I restore?
God, you know my folly; * and my faults are not hidden from you.
May they who hope in you not be disgraced * through me, Lord Yahweh of Armies.
May they who seek you not be disappointed * through me, God of Israel.
Because of you I have suffered abuse, * and disgrace has covered my face.
I have become a stranger to my brothers, * an alien to my mother's sons.
For zeal for your house has eaten me up, * and the insults of your insulters have fallen on me.
So I poured out my soul while fasting, * and abuse itself was mine.
I made sackcloth my garb, * and became a joke to them.
Feasters and drunkards * compose songs to mock me.
As for me, my prayer is to you, Yahweh; * God, favor me now!
In your great kindness answer me * with your faithful help.
Rescue me from the Mire * lest I be submerged.
Let me be rescued from my Enemy, * and from the bottomless waters.
Let not the vortex of the sea engulf me, * or the abyss ever swallow me, * or the Pit close its mouth on me.
Answer me, Yahweh, * for your love is bounteous.
As befits your abundant mercy, * turn your face toward me.
Do not turn away * your face from your servant.
Because distress is mine, * quickly answer me.
Draw near, El, redeem me; * ransom me from the Abode of my Foe.
You know my abuse; * my shame and my disgrace are before you.
Abuse has wasted my entrails; * disease has crushed my heart.
I looked for a comforter, but there was none, * and for consolers, but I found none.
They put poison in my food, * and for my thirst they served me vinegar.
May their table be a trap before them, * and their companions a snare.
May their eyes grow too dim to see, * and their thighs continually shake.
Pour on them your wrath; * let your raging fury overtake them.
Let their camp be deserted, * in their tents there be no one to live,
because the one you struck they persecuted, * the pain of him you wounded they gossiped about.
Charge them with crime after crime; * let them not enter your Field.
Let them be erased from the book of life, * and not inscribed among the just.
But I am afflicted and in pain; * may God's help sustain me,
that I might praise God's Name in song,* and extol it with hymns of thanks.
For this will please Yahweh more than a bull, * than an ox with horns and hoofs.
Look, you oppressed; * let those who seek God rejoice; * may your courage revive!
For El hears his poor; * Yahweh does not despise those bound to him.
Let heaven and earth praise him, * the seas and all that stirs in them.
Surely God will save Zion, * and rebuild the cities of Judah. * Those expelled from it will return there.
The offspring of his servants will inherit it; * those who love his name will settle there.
End of Fri Readings 3