O Lord, how long?
I am broken and weak,
The very foundations of my being quake-
With reverential terror I shake,
God, correct me.*
But not in thy anger-
Though I deserve destruction-
Let thy mercy pity my frailty.**
I am outweighed by my iniquity,
I cannot appeal to anything,
But unmerited grace.
A heart that is broken and contrite-
You, my God, shall not turn away.***
Be merciful to me,
For mercy blesses him that gives,
And him that does receive.
I groan with sorrow,
Vexed with shame,
My eyes are swollen from grief,
But O how I will rejoice,
On the day my God delivers me!
My God, my God, you have heard the sound of my weeping!
You have listened to my desperate plea!
You have accepted my prayers!
All you evildoers, depart from me,
For my God has shown me his unfailing mercy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem