Psalm 71 Monday Midday 3
In you, Yahweh, have I trusted; * let me not be disgraced, Eternal One!
In your fidelity deliver me and rescue me! * Turn your ear to me and save me.
Mountain of help, be mine! * You promised to come any time.
Save me now! * for your are my rock and my fortress.
Free me, my God, from the hand of the wicked, * from the grip of the criminal and robber.
For you are my hope, Lord, * Yahweh, my trust from my youth.
I have been supported by you from the womb; * from my mother's bosom you have been my sustainer; * for you my praise is endless.
I have been like a target for archers, * but you have been my fortress of refuge.
My mouth is full of your praise, * and with your glorious deeds throughout the day.
Do not discard me in my old age; * in my failing strength do not abandon me.
My enemies eye me, * and those who watch for my life consult together,
saying: “God has abandoned him; * pursue and seize him, * for there is none to rescue.”
My God, be not far from me; * my God, hurry to help me.
May my slanderers * be completely disgraced;
may those who seek my ruin * be robed with dishonor and shame.
But I will always hope * and ever add to all your praise.
My mouth would count your faithful deeds, * throughout the day your saving acts, * even though I could never count them.
I will enter your mighty house, Lord, * Yahweh, I will proclaim only your fidelity.
God, you have taught me from my youth, * and till now I have recounted your wondrous deeds.
So even to old age and grey hair * do not abandon me, God,
till I tell of your power to the assembly, * to everyone who enters your mighty house.
Your fidelity, God, reaches heaven, * because you have done great things; * God, who is like you?
Though you made me see * so many tribulations, quarrels and wrongs,
you will restore me to life; * and from the depths of the underworld * you will raise me once more.
Consider precious my large offering of cattle, * and enfold me with your comfort.
I will praise you loudly on the harp, * and your faithfulness, my God.
I will sing to you with the lyre, * Holy One of Israel.
My lips will resound with joy * —indeed I will sing to you— * my soul also, which you ransomed.
All day long my tongue * will number loudly your faithful deeds.
May they be disgraced! * May they be put to confusion * those who seek my ruin.
End of Mon Midday 3