Yahweh, hear my prayer; * let my cry come to you.

Don't turn your face from me * on the day of my anguish

turn your ear toward me * on the day I call * be quick to answer me.

    For my days pass more quickly than smoke, * and my bones are as hot as a stove.

    Scorched like grass, my heart has withered; * I am wasted away by the Devourer.

    My jaws are sick from my groaning; * my skeleton clings to my flesh.

        I resemble a vulture in the wilderness; * I have become like an owl among ruins.

        Sleepless, I have become like a sparrow, * chirping on the roof all day.

    My Enemy taunts me; * my Mocker feasts on me.

    Ashes I eat as my food, * and from my tears I draw my drink.

Because of your fury and your anger, * you lifted me up and threw me down.

My days are like a lengthening shadow, * and I wither like grass.

    But you, Yahweh, * sit enthroned from eternity, * and your throne endures from age to age.

    You will arise to show compassion to Zion, * because it is time to have pity on her; * yes, the appointed time has come.

        How your servants love her stones, * by her dust are moved to pity!

        The nations will revere your name, Yahweh, * and all kings of the earth your glory,

           when Yahweh builds Zion anew, * appears to her in his glory,

           when he regards the prayer of the destitute, * and does not despise their prayer.

           Let this be written for the next generation, * that a people yet to be created might praise Yah:

        “Yahweh looked down from his holy height; * from heaven to earth he gazed

        to hear the groans of prisoners, * to release those condemned to die,

    that Yahweh's name be proclaimed in Zion, * and his praise in Jerusalem,

    when peoples gather together * with kings to serve him.”

Yahweh humbled my strength by his power, * and my God cut short the days of my prime.

“Do not take me away before half my days, * when your years last generations!”

    Long ago you laid the earth's foundations, * and the heavens are the work of your hands.

    They will perish, but you will remain; * all of them will wear out like clothes.

    You change them like a garment, * and they pass away.

But you remain the same, * and your years will never end.

The children of your servants will dwell secure, * and their offspring shall stay in your presence.