5 Whose harvest the hungry eateth up, And taketh it even out of the thorns; And the snare gapeth for their substance.
6 For affliction cometh not forth from the dust, Neither doth trouble spring out of the ground;
7 But man is born unto trouble, As the sparks fly upward.
8 But as for me, I would seek unto God, And unto God would I commit my cause;
9 Who doeth great things and unsearchable, Marvellous things without number:
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