posted on Sep, 3 2019 @ 12:26 PM
I have lifted up my eyes to mountains,
From whence my help shall come to me.
My help is from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.
Look away from thy rottenness,
O pitiful soul.
Thy comfort is a far fly from thyself,
And thou would collapse on the way.
The world hath refused thee,
Its wise has mocked and sneered,
The beauty hath spit in thy face,
This thou hast deserved.
He shall neither slumber nor sleep,
That press thee as a grape,
For precious is the wine of thy suffering.
Woe is me,
That my sojourning is prolonged!
Birth has begat my stay in desolation,
But death shall be blissful marriage.