12 On the right hand doth a brood arise, My feet they have cast away, And they raise up against me, Their paths of calamity.
13 They have broken down my path, By my calamity they profit, `He hath no helper.`
14 As a wide breach they come, Under the desolation have rolled themselves.
15 He hath turned against me terrors, It pursueth as the wind mine abundance, And as a thick cloud, Hath my safety passed away.
16 And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
17 At night my bone hath been pierced in me, And mine eyelids do not lie down.
18 By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.
