And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have taken hold upon me. In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest. By God’s great force is my garment disfigured; It bindeth me about as the collar of my coat. He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes. I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou gazest at me. Thou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me. Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; And thou dissolvest me in the storm. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness. My heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me. I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches. My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat. Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of them that weep.
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