14 Like a swallow `or' a crane, so did I chatter; I did moan as a dove; mine eyes fail `with looking' upward: O Lord, I am oppressed, be thou my surety.
15 What shall I say? he hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it: I shall go softly all my years because of the bitterness of my soul.
16 O Lord, by these things men live; And wholly therein is the life of my spirit: Wherefore recover thou me, and make me to live.
17 Behold, `it was' for `my' peace `that' I had great bitterness: But thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption; For thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.
18 For Sheol cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee: They that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth.
Share this page