Friday, April 11

Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;

my eyes grow weak with sorrow,

my soul and body with grief.

My life is consumed by anguish

and my years by groaning;

my strength fails because of my affliction,[a]

and my bones grow weak.

Because of all my enemies,

I am the utter contempt of my neighbors

and an object of dread to my closest friends—

those who see me on the street flee from me.

I am forgotten as though I were dead;

I have become like broken pottery.

For I hear many whispering,

“Terror on every side!”

They conspire against me

and plot to take my life.

But I trust in you, Lord;

I say, “You are my God.”

My times are in your hands;

deliver me from the hands of my enemies,

from those who pursue me.

Let your face shine on your servant;

save me in your unfailing love.