PsaumesChapitre 102

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A prayer of one afflicted, when he grows faint and pours out his complaint before the LORD.
LORD, hear my prayer; let my cry for help come to you.
Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly.
For my days vanish like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace.
My heart is struck down and withered like grass, for I have forgotten to eat my bread.
From the sound of my groaning my bones cling to my flesh.
I am like a desert owl in the wasteland, like an owl among the ruins.
I lie awake; I have become like a lone bird on a rooftop.
All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rage at me use my name as a curse.
For I eat ashes like bread and mingle tears with what I drink,
because of your indignation and wrath, for you have lifted me up and thrown me aside.
My days are like a lengthening shadow, and I wither away like grass.
But you, LORD, are enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations.
You will rise up and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to show her favor; the appointed hour has come.
For your servants delight in her stones and take pity on her dust.
Then the nations will fear the name of the LORD, and all the kings of the earth your glory.
For the LORD will rebuild Zion; he will appear in his glory.
He will turn to the prayer of the destitute and will not despise their plea.
Let this be written for a generation to come, so that a people yet to be created may praise the LORD:
that he looked down from his holy height, that the LORD gazed from heaven to earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoner, to set free those condemned to die,
so that the name of the LORD may be declared in Zion, and his praise in Jerusalem,
when the peoples gather together and the kingdoms come to serve the LORD.
He broke my strength along the way; he cut short my days.
So I said: My God, do not take me away in the midst of my days—your years go on through all generations.
Long ago you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them, and they will pass away.
But you are the same, and your years will never end.
The children of your servants will dwell secure, and their descendants will stand firm before you.