16 As dry as a potsherd is my throat;my tongue cleaves to my palate;you lay me in the dust of death.
17 Dogs surround me;a pack of evildoers closes in on me.They have pierced my hands and my feet
18 I can count all my bones.They stare at me and gloat;
19 they divide my garments among them;for my clothing they cast lots.
20 But you, Lord, do not stay far off;my strength, come quickly to help me.
21 Deliver my soul from the sword,my life from the grip of the dog.
22 Save me from the lion’s mouth,my poor life from the horns of wild bulls.