Why art thou sad, O My Soul? * and why dost thou trouble ?
Hope in God, for I will still give praise to him: * the salvation of my countenance and my God.
My soul is troubled within myself: * therefore will I remember Thee from the land of Jordan and Hermon, from the little hill.
Deep calleth on deep * at the noise of Thy flood-gates.
All Thy waves and Thy billows * have passed over me.
In the daytime the Lord hath commanded His mercy: * and a canticle to Him in the night.
With me is prayer to the God of my life,* I will say to God: Thou art my support.
Why hast Thou forgotten me? * and why go I mourning, whilst my enemy afflicteth me?
Whilst my bones are broken,* my enemies who trouble me have reproached me.
Whilst they say to me day by day: Where is thy God? * Why art thou
