that he looked down from his holy height

Hear my prayer, O Lord;
   let my cry come to you!
Do not hide your face from me
   in the day of my distress!
Incline your ear to me;
   answer me speedily when I call!
For my days pass away like smoke,
   and my bones burn like a furnace.
My heart is struck down like grass and has withered . . .
I am like a desert owl of the wilderness,
   like an owl of the waste places;
I lie awake;
   I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop . . .
My days are like an evening shadow;
   I wither away like grass.

But you, O Lord, are enthroned forever;
   you are remembered throughout all generations.
You will arise and have pity on Zion;
   it is the time to favor her;
   the appointed time has come . . .
Nations will fear the name of the Lord,
   and all the kings of the earth will fear your glory.
For the Lord builds up Zion;
   he appears in his glory;
he regards the prayer of the destitute
   and does not despise their prayer.

Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
   so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord:
that he looked down from his holy height;
   from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
   to set free those who were doomed to die,
that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord,
   and in Jerusalem his praise,
when peoples gather together,
   and kingdoms, to worship the Lord.

-Psalm 102:1-4, 6-7, 11-13, 15-22