Salmos 77

Aprirò in parabole la mia bocca: dirò cose recondite de' primi tempi.

Al Señor busqué en el día de mi angustia: mi mal corría de noche, y no cesaba: mi alma rehusaba consuelo.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: my sore ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord. My hand was stretched out in the night, and didn’t get tired. My soul refused to be comforted.