From on high hath he sent fire into my bones, and it prevaileth against them;\par\tab He hath spread a net for my feet, he hath turned me back:\par\tab He hath made me desolate and faint all the day.
The ways of Zion do mourn, because none come to the solemn assembly;\par\tab All her gates are desolate, her priests do sigh:\par\tab Her virgins are afflicted, and she herself is in bitterness.