21 Thou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me.
22 Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; And thou dissolvest me in the storm.
23 For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.
24 Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
25 Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
26 When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness.
27 My heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me.