15 oMy strength is dried up like a potsherd,

And pMy tongue clings to My jaws;

You have brought Me to the dust of death.

16 For dogs have surrounded Me;

The congregation of the wicked has enclosed Me.

qThey 6pierced My hands and My feet;

17 I can count all My bones.

rThey look and stare at Me.

18 sThey divide My garments among them,

And for My clothing they cast lots.