Psalm 39,11–12
Luther 1912Other versions
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11.Wende deine Plage von mir; denn ich bin verschmachtet von der Strafe deiner Hand.
12.Wenn du einen züchtigst um der Sünde willen, so wird seine Schöne verzehrt wie von Motten. Ach wie gar nichts sind doch alle Menschen! (Sela.)
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