17

1 My spirit is broken, ¶ my days are cut short, ¶ the grave awaits me.

2 Surely mockers surround me; my eyes must dwell on their hostility.

3 "Give me, O God, the pledge you demand. ¶ Who else will put up security for me?

4 You have closed their minds to understanding; therefore you will not let them triumph.

5 If anyone denounces their friends for reward, the eyes of their children will fail.

6 "God has made me a byword to everyone, ¶ a man in whose face people spit.

7 My eyes have grown dim with grief; my whole frame is but a shadow.

8 The upright are appalled at this; the innocent are aroused against the ungodly.

9 Nevertheless, the righteous will hold to their ways, and those with clean hands will grow stronger.

10 "But come on, all of you, try again! ¶ I will not find a wise man among you.

11 My days have passed, my plans are shattered. Yet the desires of my heart

12 turn night into day; in the face of the darkness light is near.

13 If the only home I hope for is the grave, if I spread out my bed in the realm of darkness,

14 if I say to corruption, 'You are my father,' and to the worm, 'My mother' or 'My sister,'

15 where then is my hope — who can see any hope for me?

16 Will it go down to the gates of death? Will we descend together into the dust?"

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