Against my right do I lie? Mortal `is' mine arrow -- without transgression.'
Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
`Pure `am' I, without transgression, Innocent `am' I, and I have no iniquity.
For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
Why hath my pain been perpetual? And my wound incurable? It hath refused to be healed, Thou art surely to me as a failing stream, Waters not stedfast.