For my loins are filled with a loathsome disease: and there is no soundness in my flesh.

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For my loins are full of inflammation,
And there is no soundness in my flesh.

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An evil disease, say they, cleaveth fast unto him: and now that he lieth he shall rise up no more.

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“An[a] evil disease,” they say, “clings to him.
And now that he lies down, he will rise up no more.”

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Footnotes

  1. Psalm 41:8 Lit. A thing of Belial