7 What my soul refuseth to touch, that is as my loathsome food.
8 Oh that I might have my request, and that +God would grant my desire!
9 And that it would please +God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off!
10 Then should I yet have comfort; and in the pain which spareth not I would rejoice that I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
11 What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should have patience?
12 Is my strength the strength of stones? is my flesh of brass?
13 Is it not that there is no help in me, and soundness is driven away from me?