Psalms 41:4-9

I said, “GOD, be gracious! Put me together again— my sins have torn me to pieces.” My enemies are wishing the worst for me; they make bets on what day I will die. If someone comes to see me, he mouths empty platitudes, All the while gathering gossip about me to entertain the street-corner crowd. These “friends” who hate me whisper slanders all over town. They form committees to plan misery for me. The rumor goes out, “He’s got some dirty, deadly disease. The doctors have given up on him.” Even my best friend, the one I always told everything —he ate meals at my house all the time!— has bitten my hand.