| Verse Reference | Verse Text |
|---|---|
| Psa 102:4 | My heart is smitten, and withered like grass; so that I forget to eat my bread. |
| Mic 7:1 | Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer fruits, as the grape gleanings of the vintage: there is no cluster to eat: my soul desired the firstripe fruit. |