4 For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, The poison whereof my spirit drinketh up: The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me.
5 Doth the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or loweth the ox over his fodder?
6 Can that which hath no savor be eaten without salt? Or is there any taste in the white of an egg?
7 My soul refuseth to touch [them]; They are as loathsome food 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 And be it still my consolation, Yea, let me exult in pain that spareth not, That I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
