14 He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
15 Sackcloth I have sewed on my skin, And have rolled in the dust my horn.
16 My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids 'is' death-shade.
17 Not for violence in my hands, And my prayer 'is' pure.
18 O earth, do not thou cover my blood! And let there not be a place for my cry.
Share this page