The prayer of the pauper, when he was anxious, and so he poured out his petition in the sight of the Lord
O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my outcry reach you
Do not turn your face away from me. In whatever day that I am in trouble, incline your ear to me. In whatever day that I will call upon you, heed me quickly
For my days have faded away like smoke, and my bones have dried out like firewood
I have been cut down like hay, and my heart has withered, for I had forgotten to eat my bread
Before the voice of my groaning, my bone has adhered to my flesh
I have become like a pelican in solitude. I have become like a night raven in a house
I have kept vigil, and I have become like a solitary sparrow on a roof
All day long my enemies reproached me, and those who praised me swore oaths against me
For I chewed on ashes like bread, and I mixed weeping into my drink
By the face of your anger and indignation, you lifted me up and threw me down
My days have declined like a shadow, and I have dried out like hay
But you, O Lord, endure for eternity, and your memorial is from generation to generation
You will rise up and take pity on Zion, for it is time for its mercy, for the time has come
For its stones have pleased your servants, and they will take pity on its land
And the Gentiles will fear your name, O Lord, and all the kings of the earth your glory
For the Lord has built up Zion, and he will be seen in his glory
He has noticed the prayer of the humble, and he has not despised their petition
Let these things be written in another generation, and the people who will be created will praise the Lord
For he has gazed from his high sanctuary. From heaven, the Lord has beheld the earth
So may he hear the groans of those in shackles, in order that he may release the sons of the slain
So may they announce the name of the Lord in Zion and his praise in Jerusalem
while the people convene, along with kings, in order that they may serve the Lord
He responded to him in the way of his virtue: Declare to me the brevity of my days
Do not call me back in the middle of my days: your years are from generation to generation
In the beginning, O Lord, you founded the earth. And the heavens are the work of your hands
They will perish, but you remain. And all will grow old like a garment. And, like a blanket, you will change them, and they will be changed
Yet you are ever yourself, and your years will not decline
The sons of your servants will live, and their offspring will be guided aright in every age