Because of my grief, my skin hangs on my bones.
We grow up like flowers and then dry up and die. We are like a passing shadow that does not last.
I am nothing but skin and bones; I have escaped by the skin of my teeth.
I am tired of crying to you. Every night my bed is wet with tears; my bed is soaked from my crying.
Get away from me, all you who do evil, because the Lord has heard my crying.
In the morning they are fresh and new, but by evening they dry up and die.
A happy heart is like good medicine, but a broken spirit drains your strength.
But now they are blacker than coal, and no one recognizes them in the streets. Their skin hangs on their bones; it is as dry as wood.
This happened every year when they went up to the house of the Lord at Shiloh. Peninnah would upset Hannah until Hannah would cry and not eat anything.
