Let the enemy pursue my soul and overtake it;
And let him trample my life down to the ground
And lay my glory in the dust. Selah.

Then I beat them fine as the dust before the wind;
I emptied them out as the mire of the streets.

My strength is dried up like a potsherd,
And my tongue cleaves to my jaws;
And You lay me in the dust of death.

All the prosperous of the earth will eat and worship,
All those who go down to the dust will bow before Him,
Even he who cannot keep his soul alive.

“What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your faithfulness?

For our soul has sunk down into the dust;
Our body cleaves to the earth.

Let the nomads of the desert bow before him,
And his enemies lick the dust.

When He rained meat upon them like the dust,
Even winged fowl like the sand of the seas,

O my God, make them like the whirling dust,
Like chaff before the wind.

You have spurned the covenant of Your servant;
You have profaned his crown in the dust.

You turn man back into dust
And say, “Return, O children of men.”

Surely Your servants find pleasure in her stones
And feel pity for her dust.

For He Himself knows our frame;
He is mindful that we are but dust.

You hide Your face, they are dismayed;
You take away their spirit, they expire
And return to their dust.

He raises the poor from the dust
And lifts the needy from the ash heap,

Daleth.
My soul cleaves to the dust;
Revive me according to Your word.