He shot into my kidneys arrows from His quiver.
For the arrows of Shaddai are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God’s terrors line up against me.
Their quiver is an open grave. They are all mighty warriors.
He bent His bow like an enemy, set His right hand like a foe, and killed all those pleasant to the eye. In the tent of the daughter of Zion He has poured out His wrath like fire.
I will heap calamities upon them. With My arrows I will finish them.
