For my loins are filled with inflammation, and there is no soundness in my flesh.

When I kept silent, my bones wore out through my roaring all day long.

Why will you be stricken any more? Will you rebel more and more? The whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint.

From the sole of the foot even to the head, there is no soundness in it; only wounds and bruises and fresh stripes; they have not been closed nor bound up, nor has it been softened with oil.

Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the healing of the daughter of my people not come?