Psalm 6
New American Standard Bible
Prayer for Mercy in Time of Trouble.
For the music director; with stringed instruments, [a]upon an eight-string lyre. A Psalm of David.
6 Lord, (A)do not rebuke me in Your anger,
Nor discipline me in Your wrath.
2 Be gracious to me, Lord, for I am (B)frail;
(C)Heal me, Lord, for (D)my bones are horrified.
3 And my (E)soul is greatly horrified;
But You, Lord—(F)how long?
4 Return, Lord, (G)rescue my [b]soul;
Save me because of Your mercy.
5 For (H)there is no [c]mention of You in death;
In [d]Sheol, who will praise You?
6 I am (I)weary with my sighing;
Every night I make my bed swim,
I flood my couch with (J)my tears.
7 My (K)eye has wasted away with grief;
It has grown old because of all my enemies.
8 (L)Leave me, all you who practice injustice,
For the Lord (M)has heard the sound of my weeping.
9 The Lord (N)has heard my pleading,
The Lord (O)receives my prayer.
10 All my enemies will (P)be put to shame and greatly horrified;
They shall [e]turn back, they will (Q)suddenly be put to shame.
Footnotes
- Psalm 6 Title Or according to a lower octave (Heb Sheminith)
- Psalm 6:4 Or life
- Psalm 6:5 Or remembrance
- Psalm 6:5 I.e., the netherworld
- Psalm 6:10 Or again be abruptly put to shame
Psalm 6
New International Version
Psalm 6[a]
For the director of music. With stringed instruments. According to sheminith.[b] A psalm of David.
1 Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger(A)
or discipline me in your wrath.
2 Have mercy on me,(B) Lord, for I am faint;(C)
heal me,(D) Lord, for my bones are in agony.(E)
3 My soul is in deep anguish.(F)
How long,(G) Lord, how long?
4 Turn,(H) Lord, and deliver me;
save me because of your unfailing love.(I)
5 Among the dead no one proclaims your name.
Who praises you from the grave?(J)
Psalm 6
The Message
6 1-2 Please, God, no more yelling,
no more trips to the woodshed.
Treat me nice for a change;
I’m so starved for affection.
2-3 Can’t you see I’m black-and-blue,
beaten up badly in bones and soul?
God, how long will it take
for you to let up?
4-5 Break in, God, and break up this fight;
if you love me at all, get me out of here.
I’m no good to you dead, am I?
I can’t sing in your choir if I’m buried in some tomb!
6-7 I’m tired of all this—so tired. My bed
has been floating forty days and nights
On the flood of my tears.
My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears.
The sockets of my eyes are black holes;
nearly blind, I squint and grope.
8-9 Get out of here, you Devil’s crew:
at last God has heard my sobs.
My requests have all been granted,
my prayers are answered.
10 Cowards, my enemies disappear.
Disgraced, they turn tail and run.
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