My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids `is' death-shade.
My interpreter `is' my friend, Unto God hath mine eye dropped:
And dim from sorrow is mine eye, And my members as a shadow all of them.
When together, morning `is' to them death shade, When he discerneth the terrors of death shade.
Because ashes as bread I have eaten, And my drink with weeping have mingled,
Compassed me have cords of death, And straits of Sheol have found me, Distress and sorrow I find.
Favour me, O Jehovah, for distress `is' to me, Mine eye, my soul, and my body Have become old by provocation.
When I have kept silence, become old have my bones, Through my roaring all the day.
I have been wearied with my calling, Burnt hath been my throat, Consumed have been mine eyes, waiting for my God.
As astonished at thee have been many, (So marred by man his appearance, And his form by sons of men.)
For these I am weeping, My eye, my eye, is running down with waters, For, far from me hath been a comforter, Refreshing my soul, My sons have been desolate, For mighty hath been an enemy.
and he saith to them, `Exceeding sorrowful is my soul -- to death; remain here, and watch.'