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Wait on the Lord

Woe is me!
Because I am as the gathering of summer fruit,
    as the gleaning of grapes;
there is no cluster to eat,
    no early fig that my soul desires.
The godly has perished from the earth,
    and no one is upright among men.
All of them lie in wait for bloodshed;
    each hunts his brother with a net.
Both hands are upon evil, to do it well.
    The prince and the judge request the bribe,
the powerful asserts the craving of his very soul—
    they intertwine together.

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