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O Lord, my God, by day I cry out, at night I clamor in your presence. Let my prayer come before you
incline your ear to my call for help, For my soul is surfeited with troubles
and my life draws near to the nether world.
I am numbered with those who go down into the pit;
I am a man without strength.
My couch is among the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave,
Whom you remember no longer and who are cut off from your care.
You have plunged me into the bottom of the pit, into the dark abyss.
Upon me your wealth lies heavy, and with all your billows you overwhelm me.
You have taken my friends away from me; you have made me an abomination to them;
I am imprisoned, and I cannot escape.
My eyes have grown dim through affliction; daily I call upon you; O Lord;
to you I stretch out my hands. Will you work wonders for the dead?
Will the shades arise to give you thanks?
Do they declare your kindness in the grave, your faithfulness among those who have perished?
Are you wonders made known in the darkness, or you justice in the land of oblivion?
But I, O Lord, cry out to you; with my morning prayer I wait upon you, Why, O Lord, do you reject me;
why hide from me your face? I am afflicted and in agony from my youth;
I am dazed with the burden of your dread,
Your furies have swept over me; your terrors have cut me off.
They encompass me like water all the day, on all side they close in upon me.
Companion and neighbor you have taken from me; my only friend is darkness.