LORD, I have heard of your fame. I stand in awe of your deeds, LORD. Renew your work in the midst of the years. In the midst of the years make it known. In wrath, you remember mercy.

I heard, and my body trembled. My lips quivered at the voice. Rottenness enters into my bones, and I tremble in my place, because I must wait quietly for the day of trouble, for the coming up of the people who invade us.

For though the fig tree doesn't flourish, nor fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive fails, the fields yield no food; the flocks are cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls: