Rotherham(i)
13 The blessing of him that was ready to perish, upon me was wont to descend, and, the heart of the widow, caused I to sing for joy;
14 Righteousness, I put on, and it clothed me, Like a robe and turban, was my, justice;
15 Eyes, became I to the, blind, and, feet to the lame, was, I!
16 A father, was, I, to the needy, and, as for the cause which I knew not, I used to search it out;
17 And I shivered the fangs of the perverse,––and, out of his teeth, I tare the prey.
18 Then said I, Like a stem, shall I grow old, yea, as the sand, shall I multiply days:
18 Then said I, Like a stem, shall I grow old, yea, as the sand, shall I multiply days: