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I have sunk into deep mud.
    My feet can’t touch the bottom!
I have entered deep water;
    the flood has swept me up.
I am tired of crying.
    My throat is hoarse.
    My eyes are exhausted with waiting for my God.

More numerous than the hairs on my head
    are those who hate me for no reason.
My treacherous enemies,
    those who would destroy me, are countless.
    Must I now give back
    what I didn’t steal in the first place?

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I sink in deep (A)mire,
    where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
    and the flood (B)sweeps over me.
(C)I am weary with my crying out;
    (D)my throat is parched.
(E)My eyes grow dim
    with (F)waiting for my God.

(G)More in number than the hairs of my head
    are (H)those who hate me (I)without cause;
mighty are those who would destroy me,
    (J)those who attack me with lies.
What I did not steal
    must I now restore?

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