The Prophet’s Passionate Lament

10 Alas for me! mother of mine, that bore me

To strive and to struggle with all the world.

Never lender nor borrower was I,

Yet one and all they curse me.

11 To their curses be "Amen, Jehovah,"

If ever I failed to entreat Thee

For a blessing upon my foes

In their time of distress and disaster.

12 Is the arm in my shoulder of iron?

Or is my brow of brass?

15 O Jehovah, remember and visit me,

Avenge me of my tormentors;

Let not Thine anger tarry.

Bethink Thee – it is in Thy cause

That I have been laden with insult.

16 They spurn Thy words – every man of them.

But to me is Thy word a delight,

The very joy of my heart;

For I have been called by Thy name,

O Jehovah, Thou God of Hosts.

17 No happy seat was mine

At gatherings of the merry;

But lonely I sat, for Thy hand was upon me:

With (holy) wrath Thou hast filled me.

18 Oh why is my pain unceasing?

And why is this wound of mine cureless?

Like a treacherous brook wilt Thou be unto me,

Like waters that are unsure?