Coverdale(i)
24 Wherfore hydest thou thy face, and holdest me for thine enemye?
25 Wilt thou be so cruell & extreme vnto a flyenge leaf, and folowe vpon drye stubble?
26 that thou layest so sharply to my charge, and wilt vtterly vndoo me, for ye synnes of my yougth?
27 Thou hast put my fote in the stockes: thou lokest narowly vnto all my pathes, & marckest the steppes of my fete:
28 where as I (notwithstondinge) must consume like as a foule carion, and as a cloth that is moth eaten.