CHAPTER 22
For the choirmaster.
To the tune of
“The Doe
of the Dawn.”
A Psalm
of David.
My God,
my God,
why
have You forsaken me?
Why are You so far
from saving me,
so far from my words
of groaning?
“He trusts
in
the LORD,
let the LORD deliver him;
let the LORD rescue him,
since
He delights in him.”
I am poured out
like water,
and all
my bones
are disjointed.
My heart
is
like wax;
it melts away
within
me.
My strength
is dried up
like a potsherd,
and my tongue
sticks
to the roof of my mouth.
You lay me
in the dust
of death.
You who fear
the LORD,
praise Him!
All
descendants
of Jacob,
honor Him!
All
offspring
of Israel,
revere Him!
For
He has not
despised
or detested
the torment
of the afflicted.
He has not
hidden
His face
from him,
but has attended
to his
cry for help.
From You
comes my praise
in the great
assembly;
before
those who fear You
I will fulfill
my vows.
The poor
will eat
and be satisfied;
those who seek
the LORD
will praise Him.
May your hearts
live
forever!
All
the ends
of the earth
will remember
and turn
to
the LORD.
All
the families
of the nations
will bow down
before Him.
All
the rich
of the earth
will feast
and worship;
all
who go down
to the dust
will kneel
before Him—
even those unable
to preserve
their lives.