2 O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!
3 For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
4 For arrows of the Mighty 'are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves 'for' me!
5 Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?
6 Eaten is an insipid thing without salt? Is there sense in the drivel of dreams?
Share this page