12 O Lord, you always give me justice when I bring a case before you to decide. Now let me bring you this complaint: Why are the wicked so prosperous? Why are evil men so happy? ² You plant them. They take root and their business grows. Their profits multiply, and they are rich. They say, “Thank God!” But in their hearts they give no credit to you. ³ But as for me—Lord, you know my heart—you know how much it longs for you. (And I am poor,^[a] O Lord!) Lord, drag them off like helpless sheep to the slaughter. Judge them, O God!

⁴ How long must this land of yours put up with all their goings-on? Even the grass of the field groans and weeps over their wicked deeds! The wild animals and birds have moved away, leaving the land deserted. Yet the people say, “God won’t bring judgment on us. We’re perfectly safe!”