Psalms, 6

1. (To the choir-master. On stringed instruments. Over the octave. A psalm. Of David.)

2. Lord, when thou dost reprove me, let it not be in anger; when thou dost chastise me, let it not be in displeasure.

3. Lord, pity me; I have no strength left; Lord, heal me; my limbs tremble;

4. my spirits are altogether broken; Lord, wilt thou never be content?

5. Lord, turn back, and grant a wretched soul relief; as thou art ever merciful, save me.

6. When death comes, there is no more remembering thee; none can praise thee in the tomb.

7. I am spent with sighing; every night I lie weeping on my bed, till the tears drench my pillow.

8. Grief has dimmed my eyes, faded their lustre now, so many are the adversaries that surround me.

9. Depart from me, all you that traffic in iniquity; the Lord has heard my cry of distress.

10. Here was a prayer divinely heard, a boon divinely granted.

11. All my enemies will be abashed and terrified; taken aback, all in a moment, and put to shame.