And our oppression? For our soul is to the dust down press'd: Our belly also on the earth fast cleaving, hold doth take.
My soul to dust cleaves: quicken me, according to thy word.
Wherefore is it that thou, O Lord, dost stand from us afar? And wherefore hidest thou thyself, when times so troublous are?
Distress'd am I, and from my youth I ready am to die; Thy terrors I have borne, and am distracted fearfully.