4. For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, their poison drinketh up my spirit: the terrors of +God are arrayed against me.
5. Doth the wild ass bray by the grass? loweth an ox over his fodder?
6. Shall that which is insipid be eaten without salt? Is there any taste in the white of an egg?
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!