Treasury of Scripture Knowledge
My strength is dried up like a potsherd; And my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; And thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; In the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
For my days consume away like smoke, And my bones are burned as a firebrand.
My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat.
Their visage is blacker than a coal; they are not known in the streets: Their skin cleaveth to their bones; it is withered, it is become like a stick.
Our skin is black like an oven, Because of the burning heat of famine.