I was at rest, but he hath shattered me; he hath taken me by the neck and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his mark.
His arrows encompass me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground.
He breaketh me with breach upon breach; he runneth upon me like a mighty man.
I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and rolled my horn in the dust.
My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death;
Although there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure.
O earth, cover not my blood, and let there be no place for my cry!
Even now, behold, my Witness is in the heavens, and he that voucheth for me is in the heights.
My friends are my mockers; mine eye poureth out tears unto God.
Oh that there were arbitration for a man with God, as a son of man for his friend!
For years [few] in number shall pass, -- and I shall go the way [whence] I shall not return.