4 For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, The poison whereof my spirit drinketh up: The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me.
5 Doth the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or loweth the ox over his fodder?
6 Can that which hath no savor be eaten without salt? Or is there any taste in the white of an egg?
7 My soul refuseth to touch 'them'; They are as loathsome food to me.
8 Oh that I might have my request; And that God would grant 'me' the thing that I long for!
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