³ I have been wearied with my calling, Burnt hath been my throat, Consumed have been mine eyes, waiting for my God.

¹⁴ As a crane -- a swallow -- so I chatter, I mourn as a dove, Drawn up have been mine eyes on high, O Jehovah, oppression `is' on me, be my surety.

⁸² Consumed have been mine eyes for Thy word, Saying, `When doth it comfort me?'

⁶ I have been weary with my sighing, I meditate through all the night `on' my bed, With my tear my couch I waste.

¹²³ Mine eyes have been consumed for Thy salvation. And for the saying of Thy righteousness.

³² `Thy sons and thy daughters `are' given to another people, and thine eyes are looking and consuming for them all the day, and thy hand is not to God!

¹⁵ Dried up as an earthen vessel is my power, And my tongue is cleaving to my jaws.

⁷ who in the days of his flesh both prayers and supplications unto Him who was able to save him from death -- with strong crying and tears -- having offered up, and having been heard in respect to that which he feared,

²⁸ After this, Jesus knowing that all things now have been finished, that the Writing may be fulfilled, saith, `I thirst;'

¹¹ Consumed by tears have been my eyes, Troubled have been my bowels, Poured out to the earth hath been my liver, For the breach of the daughter of my people; In infant and suckling being feeble, In the broad places of the city,

²¹ And they give for my food gall, And for my thirst cause me to drink vinegar.

⁷ And, now, what have I expected? O Lord, my hope -- it `is' of Thee.

²¹ Integrity and uprightness do keep me, For I have waited `on' Thee.

² My God, I call by day, and Thou answerest not, And by night, and there is no silence to me.

¹ To the Overseer. -- A Psalm of David. Till when, O Jehovah, Dost Thou forget me? -- for ever? Till when dost Thou hide Thy face from me?

² Till when do I set counsels in my soul? Sorrow inn my heart daily? Till when is mine enemy exalted over me?

³ Look attentively; Answer me, O Jehovah, my God, Enlighten mine eyes, lest I sleep in death,

¹⁶ My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids `is' death-shade.

²⁰ And the eyes of the wicked are consumed, And refuge hath perished from them, And their hope `is' a breathing out of soul!