Because of the voice of my groaning my bones cling to my skin.
He comes forth like a flower, and is cut down: he flees also as a shadow, and continues not.
My bone clings to my skin and to my flesh, and I have escaped by the skin of my teeth.
I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed wet with tears; I water my couch with my tears.
Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity; for the LORD has heard the voice of my weeping.
In the morning it flourishes, and grows up; in the evening it is cut down, and withers.
A merry heart does good like a medicine: but a broken spirit dries the bones.
Their appearance is now blacker than coal; they are not known in the streets: their skin cleaves to their bones; it is withered, it has become like a dry stick.
And as year by year, when she went up to the house of the LORD, so she provoked her; therefore she wept, and did not eat.