(A Psalm for lamenting September 11.)

Our dream towers are fallen
'Pon our children:
Fathers and Mothers are crushed.
Sons and daughters are perished.
Husbands and wives—dead.

Our finest buildings
Are become rubble—
Leveled to the foundation.
We are in mourning.

A perfect day is turned into night
With clouds and thick darkness.
The people mourn, Lord,
The people mourn.
With great heaviness, they mourn.
Sorrow has become our bread;
But midst the darkness, there is light.
In weakness we are made strong,
And from the ashes we will rise.

Oh Lord, our hope and shield,
You are our refuge and strength—
Even in these troubled times.