God

But He chose the tribe of Judah, Mount Zion, which He loved.

He built His sanctuary like the heights, like the earth He has established forever.

He chose David His servant and took him from the sheepfolds;

from tending the ewes He brought him to be shepherd of His people Jacob, of Israel His inheritance.

The nations, O God, have invaded Your inheritance; they have defiled Your holy temple and reduced Jerusalem to rubble.

They have given the corpses of Your servants as food to the birds of the air, the flesh of Your saints to the beasts of the earth.

How long, O LORD? Will You be angry forever? Will Your jealousy burn like fire?

Pour out Your wrath on the nations that do not acknowledge You, on the kingdoms that refuse to call on Your name,

Do not hold past sins against us; let Your compassion come quickly, for we are brought low.

Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of Your name; deliver us and atone for our sins, for the sake of Your name.

Why should the nations ask, “Where is their God?” Before our eyes, make known among the nations Your vengeance for the bloodshed of Your servants.

May the groans of the captives reach You; by the strength of Your arm preserve those condemned to death.

Pay back into the laps of our neighbors sevenfold the reproach they hurled at You, O Lord.

Then we Your people, the sheep of Your pasture, will thank You forever; from generation to generation we will declare Your praise.

Hear us, O Shepherd of Israel, who leads Joseph like a flock; You who sit enthroned between the cherubim, shine forth

before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh. Rally Your mighty power and come to save us.

Restore us, O God, and cause Your face to shine upon us, that we may be saved.

O LORD God of Hosts, how long will Your anger smolder against the prayers of Your people?

Restore us, O God of Hosts, and cause Your face to shine upon us, that we may be saved.

You uprooted a vine from Egypt; You drove out the nations and transplanted it.

Why have You broken down its walls, so that all who pass by pick its fruit?

Return, O God of Hosts, we pray! Look down from heaven and see! Attend to this vine—

the root Your right hand has planted, the son You have raised up for Yourself.

Your vine has been cut down and burned; they perish at the rebuke of Your countenance.

Let Your hand be upon the man at Your right hand, on the son of man You have raised up for Yourself.