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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.
The congregation of the wicked has enclosed Me.
rThey look and stare at Me.
18 sThey divide My garments among them,
And for My clothing they cast lots.
So with some Heb. mss., LXX, Syr., Vg.; MT Like a lion instead of They pierced
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