Miserable comforters are ye all.

Or what provoketh thee that thou answerest?

If your soul were in my soul’s stead,

I could join words together against you,

And shake my head at you.

And the solace of my lips would assuage your grief.

And though I forbear, what am I eased?

Thou hast made desolate all my company.

And my leanness riseth up against me,

It testifieth to my face.

He hath gnashed upon me with his teeth:

Mine adversary sharpeneth his eyes upon me.

They have smitten me upon the cheek reproachfully:

They gather themselves together against me.

And casteth me into the hands of the wicked.

Yea, he hath taken me by the neck, and dashed me to pieces:

He hath also set me up for his mark.

He cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare;

He poureth out my gall upon the ground.

He runneth upon me like a giant.

And have laid my horn in the dust.

And on my eyelids is the shadow of death;

And my prayer is pure.

And let my cry have no resting-place.

And he that voucheth for me is on high.

But mine eye poureth out tears unto God,

And of a son of man with his neighbor!

I shall go the way whence I shall not return.