Though I speak, my grief is not assuaged: And though I forbear, what am I eased?
My soul is weary of my life; I will give free course to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
But I would strengthen you with my mouth, And the solace of my lips should assuage your grief
If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will put off my sad countenance, and be of good cheer:
I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that thou wilt not hold me innocent.