The Awful Present

9 But now am I become their song,

Yea, I am a by-word among them.

10 In horror they stand far aloof,

And they spare not to spit at the sight of me.

11 He hath slackened my bow-string, and humbled me,

Flung down my banner before me.

12 Against me His hosts stand up,

They raise deadly ramparts against me.

13 My path they tear up clean,

My tracks they destroy altogether.

His Archers ring me around,

14 As through a wide breach they come in,

Rolling on in the midst of the ruin.

15 Terrors are turned upon me;

My weal is the sport of the winds,

And my welfare is passed like a cloud.

16 And now is my soul poured out,

The terrors of misery seize me.

17 The night boreth into my bones,

And the pains that gnaw never slumber,

18 From sore wasting my garments is shrunk;

It clingeth to me like my vest.

19 (God) hath plunged me into the mire,

So that I am like dust and ashes.

20 I cry, but Thou givest no answer;

Thou standest and heedest me not.

21 Cruel to me art Thou turned;

With the might of Thy hand Thou dost scourge me.

22 Thou settest me to ride on the wind,

And I melt in the roar of the storm.

23 For I know Thou wilt bring me to death,

To the house where all living assemble.

24 Yet sinking men stretch out their hand,

And cry for help as they perish.

25 He whose days are hard – does he weep not?

Is the soul of the needy not grieved?

26 For instead of the good I had hoped for came evil,

Instead of the light I waited came darkness.

27 My heart is hot and restless,

And misery daily confronts me.

28 I got with my sorrow uncomforted,

Standing where jackals are gathered.

29 Brother am I to the wolves,

And of ostriches the companion.

30 All backened my skin peels from off me;

My bones are burned with the heat.

31 So my lyre is turned into mourning,

My pipe to the voice of lament.