7 The things that my soul refused to touch are as loathsome food to me.
8 Oh that I might have my request; and that God would grant me the thing that I long for!
9 Even that it would please God to destroy me; that he would let loose his hand, and cut me off!
10 Then should I still have comfort; yea, I would exult myself in sorrow: let him not spare; for I have not concealed the words of the Holy One.
11 What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is my end, that I should prolong my life?
12 Is my strength the strength of stones? or is my flesh of bronze?
13 Is not my help within me? and is wisdom driven quite from me?