21 Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me.
22 Why do you pursue me as God? And with my flesh are not satisfied?
23 Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
24 With a pen of iron and lead -- For ever in a rock they may be hewn.
25 That -- I have known my Redeemer, The Living and the Last, For the dust he doth rise.
26 And after my skin hath compassed this [body], Then from my flesh I see God:
27 Whom I -- I see on my side, And mine eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, Consumed have been my reins in my bosom.
