13 His archers encompass me; he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground.
14 He breaketh me with breach upon breach, he runneth upon me like a giant.
15 I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and defiled my horn in the dust.
16 My face is foul with weeping, and on my eyelids [are] the shades of death;
17 Not for [any] injustice in my hands: also my prayer [is] pure.
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