¹⁸ By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.

⁷ And the Adversary goeth forth from the presence of Jehovah, and smiteth Job with a sore ulcer from the sole of his foot unto his crown.

⁵ Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,

²⁰ To my skin and to my flesh Cleaved hath my bone, And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth.

⁵ Stunk -- become corrupt have my wounds, Because of my folly.

⁵ Wherefore are ye stricken any more? Ye do add apostacy! Every head is become diseased, and every heart `is' sick.

⁶ From the sole of the foot -- unto the head, There is no soundness in it, Wound, and bruise, and fresh smiting! They have not been closed nor bound, Nor have they softened with ointment.