1 My spirit is broken, my days are cut short, the grave is ready for me. 2 Yet truly those that mock are with me, and on their offendings must my eye rest. 3 And thou, Creator! attend, I pray thee, be my surety with thyself: who else is there that would strike hands with me? 4 For thou hast concealed their heart against intelligence: therefore art thou not exalted through them. 5 Every one of them speaketh deceptively to his friends: may also the eyes of his children fail. 6 And he hath placed me here as a by-word unto nations; and I become openly as a place of abomination. 7 Therefore is my eye dim from vexation, and my limbs are all of them like a shadow. 8 Upright men must be astonished at this, and the innocent must arouse himself against the hypocrite. 9 Yet will the righteous hold firmly on to his way; and he that is clean of hands will acquire additional strength. 10 But all of you, do only return, and come but to me: and yet I shall not find among you one wise man. 11 My days are past, my resolves are broken off, even the thoughts—the possessions of my heart. 12 These would change the night into day, the light as near in the presence of darkness.— 13 When I hope for the nether world as my house; in the darkness have I spread my couch; 14 When I call to corruption, Thou art my father: Thou art my mother, and my sister, to the worms. 15 Ay, where is then my hope? as for my hope, who will see it fulfilled? 16 Let then my limbs sink down to the nether world: truly in the dust alone there is rest for all.