3. For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
4. For arrows of the Mighty [are] with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves [for] me!
5. Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?
6. Eaten is an insipid thing without salt? Is there sense in the drivel of dreams?
7. My soul is refusing to touch! They [are] as my sickening food.
8. O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
9. That God would please--and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
10. And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain--He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.