Study Desk

I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;

Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;

Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;

For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.

Only, against a heap of ruins, will one not thrust a hand! Surely, when one is in calamity - for that very reason, is there an outcry for help.

Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.

Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;