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63.16 :For Thou art our Father;
 * For Abraham knoweth us not,
 * And Israel doth not acknowledge us;
 * Thou, O, art our Father,
 * Our Redeemer from everlasting is Thy name.
 * O, why dost Thou make us to err from Thy ways,
 * And hardenest our heart from Thy fear?
 * Return for Thy servants'sake,
 * The tribes of Thine inheritance.
 * Thy holy people they have well nigh driven out,
 * Our adversaries have trodden down Thy sanctuary.
 * We are become as they over whom Thou never borest rule,
 * As they that were not called by Thy name.


 * Oh, that Thou wouldest rend the heavens, that Thou wouldest come down,
 * That the mountains might quake at Thy presence,
 * As when fire kindleth the brush-wood,
 * And the fire causeth the waters to boil;
 * To make Thy name known to Thine adversaries,
 * That the nations might tremble at Thy presence,
 * When Thou didst tremendous things
 * Which we looked not for—
 * Oh that Thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might quake at Thy presence!—
 * And whereof from of old men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear,
 * Neither hath the eye seen a God beside Thee,
 * Who worketh for him that waiteth for Him.


 * Thou didst take away him that joyfully worked righteousness,
 * Those that remembered Thee in Thy ways—
 * Behold, Thou wast wroth, and we sinned—
 * Upon them have we stayed of old, that we might be saved.
 * And we are all become as one that is unclean,
 * And all our righteousnesses are as a polluted garment;
 * And we all do fade as a leaf,
 * And our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.
 * And there is none that calleth upon Thy name,
 * That stirreth up himself to take hold of Thee;
 * For Thou hast hid Thy face from us,
 * And hast consumed us by means of our iniquities.


 * But now, O, Thou art our Father;
 * We are the clay, and Thou our potter,
 * And we all are the work of Thy hand.
 * Be not wroth very sore, O ,
 * Neither remember iniquity for ever;
 * Behold, look, we beseech Thee, we are all Thy people.
 * Thy holy cities are become a wilderness,
 * Zion is become a wilderness,
 * Jerusalem a desolation.
 * Our holy and our beautiful house,
 * Where our fathers praised Thee,
 * Is burned with fire;
 * And all our pleasant things are laid waste.
 * Wilt Thou refrain Thyself for these things, O ?
 * Wilt Thou hold Thy peace, and afflict us very sore?