Let darkness and the shadow of death claim it for their own; Let a cloud dwell upon it; Let all that maketh black the day terrify it.

Which are black by reason of the ice, And wherein the snow hideth itself:

There are that pluck the fatherless from the breast, And take a pledge of the poor;

They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.

My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat.