For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our body cleaves to the ground.
Why dost thou hide thy face, and count me as thy enemy?
Why dost thou stand afar off, O Lord? Why dost thou hide thyself in times of trouble?
My soul cleaves to the dust; revive me according to thy word!
Afflicted and close to death from my youth up, I suffer thy terrors; I am helpless.
and I will put it into the hand of your tormentors, who have said to you, ‘Bow down, that we may pass over’; and you have made your back like the ground and like the street for them to pass over.”
Those who feasted on dainties perish in the streets; those who were brought up in purple lie on ash heaps.