7 They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together:
8 Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land.
9 And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face.
11 For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me.
Share this page