⁷     O Eternal, You deceived me into being Your prophet,
        and I went along and allowed it to happen!
    Your strength is too much for me,
        and so You win; I speak Your words.
    Just look at what I have become: a laughingstock;
        all day long people mock me.
⁸     The only words coming out of my mouth
        are loud cries of “Violence and destruction!”
    It is the Eternal’s words—Your words—
        that bring me insults and jokes all day long.
⁹     But when I tell myself, I’ll never mention Your name
        or speak for You again, it’s no use.
    The word of God burns in my heart; it is like fire in my bones.
        I try to hold it all in, but I cannot.
¹⁰     I hear the crowds whispering behind my back and mocking my prophecies:
        “‘Terror is everywhere we turn,’ he says. Let’s report him for breaking some law.”
    Even my trusted friends are waiting for me to make a mistake:
        “Maybe he will be deceived,
        and then we’ll win, take control, and have our revenge on him.”
¹¹     But I am not alone. The Eternal is here with me.
        He stands beside me, as a dreaded warrior.
    That is why my tormentors will fail so miserably. They cannot win.
        Their humiliation and permanent dishonor will be remembered for all time.
¹²     Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, You test the righteous;
        You see my deepest thoughts; You know my heart.
    Let me see Your vengeance exacted against these people.
        for I am trusting my cause, my future to You.
¹³     Sing to the Eternal God!
        Praise the Eternal now for what He will soon do.
    For a troubled soul is snatched from the hands of the wicked.

¹⁴     Cursed be the day I was born—
        cursed, not blessed is the day my mother gave birth to me.
¹⁵     Cursed be the man who told my overjoyed father,
        “You have a son.”
¹⁶     May he be as cursed as the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah,
        which the Eternal decimated without a care.
    Let him hear cries for help in the morning.
        Let him recoil at the shouts of war at noon,
¹⁷     For he did not kill me before I was born
        so my mother’s womb would become my grave—
        my mother’s womb forever enlarged.
¹⁸     Why was I ever born? To watch such tragedy?
        To feel such sorrow? To live my days in utter shame?