A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem.
1 From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me.
Let all Israel repeat this:
2 From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me,
but they have never defeated me.
3 My back is covered with cuts,
as if a farmer had plowed long furrows.
4 But the Lord is good;
he has cut me free from the ropes of the ungodly.
5 May all who hate Jerusalem[a]
be turned back in shameful defeat.
6 May they be as useless as grass on a rooftop,
turning yellow when only half grown,
7 ignored by the harvester,
despised by the binder.
8 And may those who pass by
refuse to give them this blessing:
“The Lord bless you;
we bless you in the Lord’s name.”