For my loins are filled with a loathsome disease: and there is no soundness in my flesh.

When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.

Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more: the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint.

From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment.

Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?