Psalm 88
O Lord my God,
I cry for help in the day-time,
in the night my cry is before you;
let my prayer come into your presence,
incline your ear to my cry.
For I am sated with sorrow,
my life draws near to Sheol.
I am counted with those who go down to the pit;
without strength am I.
My home is among the dead,
like the slain that lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more
cut off as they are from your hand.
In the deepest pit you have put me,
in shadows deep and dark.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
waves of your anger roll over me.
You have put my friends far from me,
you have made them shun me.
I am shut in, and cannot escape,
my eyes are wasted with sorrow.
I call on you, Lord, every day,
spreading my hands out to you.
10 For the dead can you work wonders?
Can the shades rise again to praise you?
11 Can your kindness be told in the grave,
your faithfulness in the tomb?
12 Can your wonders be known in the darkness,
or your help in the land of forgetfulness?
13 I cry for help to you,
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
14 Why, O Lord, do you spurn me,
and hide your face from me?
15 From my youth I am wretched and dying,
I am numbed by the terrors I bear.
16 The fires of your wrath have passed over me,
your terrors destroy me,
17 surging around me forever,
hemming me in altogether.
18 Those who love me you put far from me;
the dark is my only friend.