for my soul is full of troubles: and my life draweth nigh unto the grave.
Yea, his soul draweth near unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers.
Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; and they draw near unto the gates of death.
They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble.
Hear the right, O Lord, attend unto my cry; give ear unto my prayer, that goeth not out of feigned lips.
In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: my sore ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted.
He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.