When I lie down I think: ‘When will I get up?’ But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.
In the morning you will say, ‘If only it were evening!’ and in the evening you will say, ‘If only it were morning!’—beca
When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint,
You have kept my eyes from closing; I am too troubled to speak.
I am weary from groaning; all night I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning—more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Night pierces my bones, and my gnawing pains never rest.
They have turned night into day, making light seem near in the face of darkness.
I am fading away like a lengthening shadow; I am shaken off like a locust.
“O afflicted city, lashed by storms, without solace, surely I will set your stones in antimony and lay your foundations