12 Your remembrances 'are' similes of ashes, For high places of clay your heights.
13 Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
14 Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15 Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.
16 Also -- He 'is' to me for salvation, For the profane cometh not before Him.
Share this page