For my flanks have been full of drought, And soundness is not in my flesh.

When I have kept silence, become old have my bones, Through my roaring all the day.

Wherefore are ye stricken any more? Ye do add apostasy! Every head is become diseased, and every heart [is] sick.

From the sole of the foot -- unto the head, There is no soundness in it, Wound, and bruise, and fresh smiting! They have not been closed nor bound, Nor have they softened with ointment.

Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? For wherefore hath not the health of the daughter of my people gone up?