All kind of meat their soul abhors; they to death's gates draw near.
Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; And they draw near unto the gates of death.
They loathe every kind of food, and they draw near to the gates of death.
Their soul abhorreth all manner of food; And they draw near unto the gates of death.
They had absolutely no appetite for food; they had arrived at death’s gates.
For troubles great do fill my soul; my life draws nigh the grave.
Lord, pity me; behold the grief which I from foes sustain; Ev'n thou, who from the gates of death dost raise me up again;