Then I said, “There is no cure for my grief! I am sick at heart!

If indeed you would exalt yourselves above me and plead my disgrace against me,

to the accompaniment of a ten-stringed instrument and a lyre, to the accompaniment of the meditative tone of the harp.

You exalted yourselves against me with your speech and hurled many insults against me – I have heard them all!

Joseph is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough near a spring whose branches climb over the wall.

They are like valleys stretched forth, like gardens by the river’s side, like aloes that the Lord has planted, and like cedar trees beside the waters.

My teaching will drop like the rain, my sayings will drip like the dew, as rain drops upon the grass, and showers upon new growth.

People have opened their mouths against me, they have struck my cheek in scorn; they unite together against me.

All who hate me whisper insults about me to one another; they plan ways to harm me.

Indeed I am composed and quiet, like a young child carried by its mother; I am content like the young child I carry.

He added, “Just name your wages – I’ll pay whatever you want.”

A rope is hidden for him on the ground and a trap for him lies on the path.

Thus his anger burns against me, and he considers me among his enemies.

“Yes, I know what you are thinking, the schemes by which you would wrong me.

I will sing praises to the Lord when he vindicates me.

When I tripped, they taunted me relentlessly, and tried to bite me.

Your anger overwhelms me; your terrors destroy me.

How can I repay the Lord for all his acts of kindness to me?

You squeeze me in from behind and in front; you place your hand on me.

My strength leaves me; I am absolutely shocked.