My eye wastes away because of grief. It grows old because of all my adversaries.

But you do see trouble and grief. You consider it to take it into your hand. You help the victim and the fatherless.

Have mercy on me, Yahweh, for I am in distress. My eye, my soul, and my body waste away with grief.

set apart among the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more. They are cut off from your hand.

My eyes are dim from grief. I have called on you daily, Yahweh. I have spread out my hands to you.

Is your loving kindness declared in the grave? Or your faithfulness in Destruction?