He hath bent his bow, and set me As a mark for the arrow.
For thine arrows stick fast in me, And thy hand presseth me sore.
I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, So that I am a burden to myself?
He hath bent his bow like an enemy: He stood with his right hand as an adversary, And slew all that were pleasant to the eye In the tabernacle of the daughter of Zion: He poured out his fury like fire.
For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, The poison whereof drinketh up my spirit: The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me.