Chapter 21

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Loudly I call, but my prayer cannot reach thee.

Thou dost not answer, my God, when I cry out to thee day and night, thou dost not heed.

Thou art there none the less, dwelling in the holy place; Israel’s ancient boast.

It was in thee that our fathers trusted, and thou didst reward their trust by delivering them;

they cried to thee, and rescue came; no need to be ashamed of such trust as theirs.

But I, poor worm, have no manhood left; I am a by-word to all, the laughing-stock of the rabble.

All those who catch sight of me fall to mocking; mouthing out insults, while they toss their heads in scorn,

He committed himself to the Lord, why does not the Lord come to his rescue, and set his favourite free?

What hand but thine drew me out from my mother’s womb? Who else was my refuge when I hung at the breast?

From the hour of my birth, thou art my guardian; since I left my mother’s womb, thou art my God!

Do not leave me now, when trouble is close at hand; stand near, when I have none to help me.

My enemies ring me round, packed close as a herd of oxen, strong as bulls from Basan;

so might a lion threaten me with its jaws, roaring for its prey.

I am spent as spilt water, all my bones out of joint, my heart turned to molten wax within me;

parched is my throat, like clay in the baking, and my tongue sticks fast in my mouth; thou hast laid me in the dust, to die.

Prowling about me like a pack of dogs, their wicked conspiracy hedges me in; they have torn holes in my hands and feet;

I can count my bones one by one; and they stand there watching me, gazing at me in triumph.

They divide my spoils among them, cast lots for my garments.

Then, Lord, do not stand at a distance; if thou wouldst aid me, come speedily to my side.

Only life is left me; save that from the sword, from the power of these dogs;

rescue me from the very mouth of the lion, the very horns of the wild oxen that have brought me thus low.

Then I will proclaim thy renown to my brethren; where thy people gather, I will join in singing thy praise,

Praise the Lord, all you that are his worshippers; honour to him from the sons of Jacob, reverence to him from Israel’s race!

He has not scorned or slighted the appeal of the friendless, nor turned his face away from me; my cry for help did not go unheeded.

Take what I owe thee, my song of praise before a great assembly. I will pay my vows to the Lord in the sight of his worshippers;

the poor shall eat now, and have their fill, those who look for the Lord will cry out in praise of him, Refreshed be your hearts eternally!

The furthest dwellers on earth will bethink themselves of the Lord, and come back to him; all the races of the heathen will worship before him;

to the Lord royalty belongs, the whole world’s homage is his due.

Him shall they worship, him only, that are laid to rest in the earth, even from their dust they shall adore.

I, too, shall live on in his presence,2 and beget children to serve him; these to a later age shall speak of the Lord’s name;

these to a race that must yet be born shall tell the story of his faithfulness, Hear what the Lord did.