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I go about blackened, 1 but not by the sun; in the assembly I stand up and cry for help.
At the time of the evening offering I got up from my self-abasement, 1 with my tunic and robe torn, and then dropped to my knees and spread my hands to the Lord my God.
I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh – my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.
My enemies, 1 do not gloat 2 over me! Though I have fallen, I will get up. Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light. 3