17
1 1My spirit is broken,
my days are cut short,
the grave awaits me.
2Surely mockers surround me;
my eyes must dwell on their hostility.
3‘Give me, O God, the pledge you demand.
Who else will put up security for me?
4You have closed their minds to understanding;
therefore you will not let them triumph.
5If anyone denounces their friends for reward,
the eyes of their children will fail.
6‘God has made me a byword to everyone,
a man in whose face people spit.
7My eyes have grown dim with grief;
my whole frame is but a shadow.
8The upright are appalled at this;
the innocent are aroused against the ungodly.
9Nevertheless, the righteous will hold to their ways,
and those with clean hands will grow stronger.
10‘But come on, all of you, try again!
I will not find a wise man among you.
11My days have passed, my plans are shattered.
Yet the desires of my heart
12turn night into day;
in the face of the darkness light is near.
13If the only home I hope for is the grave,
if I spread out my bed in the realm of darkness,
14if I say to corruption, “You are my father,”
and to the worm, “My mother” or “My sister”,
15where then is my hope –
who can see any hope for me?
16Will it go down to the gates of death?
Will we descend together into the dust?’
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