11 An old lion is perishing without prey, And the whelps of the lioness do separate.
12 And unto me a thing is secretly brought, And receive doth mine ear a little of it.
13 In thoughts from visions of the night, In the falling of deep sleep on men,
14 Fear hath met me, and trembling, And the multitude of my bones caused to fear.
15 And a spirit before my face doth pass, Stand up doth the hair of my flesh;
16 It standeth, and I discern not its aspect, A similitude [is] over-against mine eyes, Silence! and a voice I hear:
17 `Is mortal man than God more righteous? Than his Maker is a man cleaner?
