Coverdale(i)
4 For my wickednesses are gone ouer my heade, and are like a sore burthen, to heuy forme to beare.
5 My woundes styncke & are corrupte, thorow my folishnesse.
6 I am brought into so greate trouble and misery, that I go mournynge all the daye longe.
7 For my loynes are clene dried vp, and there is no whole parte in my body.
8 I am feble and sore smytte, I roare for the very disquietnes of my hert.