7 My soul refuseth to touch them; they are as loathsome meat 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 crush me; that he would let loose his hand, and cut me off!
10 Then should I yet have comfort; yea, I would exult in pain that spareth not: for I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
11 What is my strength, that I should wait? and what is mine end, at I should be patient?
12 Is my strength the strength of stones? or is my flesh of brass?
13 Is it not that I have no help in me, and that effectual working is driven quite from me?