Chapter 37

(A psalm. Of David. For a memorial.)

Thy reproof, Lord, not thy vengeance; thy chastisement, not thy condemnation!

Thy arrows pierce me, thy hand presses me hard;

thy anger has driven away all health from my body, never a bone sound in it, so grievous are my sins.

My own wrong-doing towers high above me, hangs on me like a heavy burden;

my wounds fester and rankle, with my own folly to blame.

Beaten down, bowed to the earth, I go mourning all day long,

my whole frame afire, my whole body diseased;

so spent, so crushed, I groan aloud in the weariness of my heart.

Thou, Lord, knowest all my longings, no complaint of mine escapes thee;

restless my heart, gone my strength; the very light that shone in my eyes is mine no longer.

Friends and neighbours that meet me keep their distance from a doomed man; old companions shun me.

Ill-wishers that grudge me life itself lay snares about me, threaten me with ruin; relentlessly their malice plots against me.

And I, all the while, am deaf to their threats, dumb before my accusers;

mine the unheeding ear, and the tongue that utters no defence.

On thee, Lord, my hopes are set; thou, O Lord my God, wilt listen to me.

Such is the prayer I make, Do not let my enemies triumph over me, boast of my downfall.

Fall full well I may; misery clouds my view;

I am ever ready to publish my guilt, ever anxious over my sin.

Unprovoked, their malice still prevails; so many that bear me a grudge so wantonly,

rewarding good with evil, and for the very rightness of my cause assailing me.

Do not fail me, O Lord my God, do not forsake me;

hasten to my defence, O Lord, my only refuge.