11 God shutteth me up unto the perverse, And to the hands of the wicked turneth me over.
12 At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.
13 Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
14 He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
15 Sackcloth I have sewed on my skin, And have rolled in the dust my horn.
16 My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids [is] death-shade.
17 Not for violence in my hands, And my prayer [is] pure.
