I have sewed sackcloth on my skin,
and have thrust my horn in the dust.
I have sewed sackcloth on my skin,
and have thrust my horn in the dust.
Job 16:12–18
I was at ease, and he broke me apart.
Yes, he has taken me by the neck, and dashed me to pieces.
He has also set me up for his target.
His archers surround me.
He splits my kidneys apart, and does not spare.
He pours out my bile on the ground.
He breaks me with breach on breach.
He runs at me like a giant.
I have sewed sackcloth on my skin,
and have thrust my horn in the dust.
My face is red with weeping.
Deep darkness is on my eyelids,
although there is no violence in my hands,
and my prayer is pure.
“Earth, don’t cover my blood.
Let my cry have no place to rest.
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