11 God delivers me to a criminaland forces me into the hands of the wicked.
12 I was at rest, but he shattered me,seized me by the back of my neck,dashed me into pieces;he raised me up for his target.
13 His archers surround me;he cuts my kidneys open without pity and doesn’t care,pours my gall on the ground,
14 bursts me open over and over,runs against me like a strong man.
15 I’ve sewed rough cloth over my skinand buried my dignity in the dust.
16 My face is red from crying,and dark gloom hangs on my eyelids.
17 But there is no violence in my hands,and my prayer is pure.