Psalm 107:18 - Psalms of David in Metre 1650 (Scottish Psalter)

¹⁸ All kind of meat their soul abhors; they to death's gates draw near.

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¹⁸ Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; And they draw near unto the gates of death.

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¹⁸ They loathe every kind of food, and they draw near to the gates of death.

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¹⁸ Their soul abhorreth all manner of food; And they draw near unto the gates of death.

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¹⁸ They had absolutely no appetite for food; they had arrived at death’s gates.

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For troubles great do fill my soul; my life draws nigh the grave.

Lord, pity me; behold the grief which I from foes sustain; Ev'n thou, who from the gates of death dost raise me up again;