12 Like a shepherd’s tent, my dwelling is pulled up and carried away from me. Like a weaver I rolled up my life. He cuts me off from the loom. From day until night You make my end.
13 I stilled my soul till morning. Like a lion, He will break all my bones. From day till night You make my end.
14 Like a swallow or a crane, I whisper, I moan like a dove. My eyes are weary, looking upward. Adonai, I am oppressed, be my security!
15 What should I say? For He has spoken to me— He Himself has done it! I will wander about all my years because of the bitterness of my soul.
16 Adonai, by such things men live, and my spirit has life in them too. Restore me to health, and let me live!
17 Behold, it was for my own shalom that I had great bitterness. You have loved my soul out of the Pit of destruction! For You have flung all my sins behind Your back.
18 For Sheol cannot thank You, death cannot praise You. Those who go down to the Pit cannot hope for Your faithfulness.