They altogether filthy are, they all aside are gone; And there is none that doeth good, yea, sure there is not one.
That there is not a God, the fool doth in his heart conclude: They are corrupt, their works are vile; not one of them doth good.
The wicked men estranged are, ev'n from the very womb; They, speaking lies, do stray as soon as to the world they come.
Thy servant also bring thou not in judgment to be try'd: Because no living man can be in thy sight justify'd.
I, like a lost sheep, went astray; thy servant seek, and find: For thy commands I suffer'd not to slip out of my mind.
My wounds do stink, and are corrupt; my folly makes it so.