By reason of the voice of my groaning My bones cleave to my flesh.
He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.
My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, And I am escaped with the skin of my teeth.
I am weary with my groaning; Every night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.
Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; For the LORD hath heard the voice of my weeping.
In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; In the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
A merry heart is a good medicine: But a broken spirit drieth up the bones.
Their visage is blacker than a coal; they are not known in the streets: their skin cleaveth to their bones; it is withered, it is become like a stick.
And as he did so year by year, when she went up to the house of the LORD, so she provoked her; therefore she wept, and did not eat.