1 My spirit is broken,
my days are over
and the grave awaits me.
2 Mockers surround me;
my eyes grow dim with nights of bitterness.
3 Sponsor me, O God,
since no one will support me.
4 You have closed their minds
so they will not dare.
5 Who will help a friend when his children are in need?
6 I have been made everybody’s by word,
a man in whose face people spit.
7 My eyes have grown dim with grief,
my frame shrunken to a shadow.
8 At this, the godly are appalled,
and the guiltless rail against the wicked.
9 The righteous feel at ease
and those with clean hands are strengthened.
10 But come on again, all of you;
I will not find a single sage among you.
11 My days are ended, my plans shattered,
and so my heart desires
12 the night when it is day,
the coming of light as soon as it darkens.
13 Where is my hope? The grave is my home,
in the darkness I spread out my bed,
14 I must call corruption “my father,”
and the worm “my mother” or “my sister.”
15 What can I wait for,
and who will see any hope for me?
16 Will it go down to the bars of death,
shall we descend together into the dust?
- Isaiah 52,15
