Salmos 77

In the day of my distress—unto My Lord, will I seek, My hand, by night, hath been outstretched and never once became slack, My soul, hath refused to be consoled;

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.