81 My soul for thy salvation faints;yet I thy word believe.
82 Mine eyes fail for thy word: I say,When wilt thou comfort give?
83 For like a bottle I'm become,that in the smoke is set:I'm black, and parch'd with grief; yet Ithy statutes not forget.
84 How many are thy servant's days?when wilt thou executeJust judgment on these wicked menthat do me persecute?
85 The proud have digged pits for me,which is against thy laws.
86 Thy words all faithful are: help me,pursu'd without a cause.
87 They so consum'd me, that on earthmy life they scarce did leave:Thy precepts yet forsook I not,but close to them did cleave.