For my soul is full of troubles: and my life draws near to the grave.
Yea, his soul draws near to the grave, and his life to the destroyers.
Their soul abhors all manner of food; and they draw near to 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 to my cry, give ear to my prayer, that does not go out of deceitful lips.
In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: my sore flowed in the night, and did not cease: my soul refused to be comforted.
He is despised and rejected by 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.