ÒMy strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death.
Dogs have surrounded me; a band of evil men has encircled me, they have pierced my hands and feet. I can count all my
bones; people stare and gloat over me. They
divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing.Ó – Psalm 22:15-18