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Psalms

‹ Verse 17

Psalms 107:18

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107:18

Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; and they draw near unto the gates of death.

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Cross-References

For my soul is full of troubles: and my life draweth nigh unto the grave.

And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

Have mercy upon me, O Lord; consider my trouble which I suffer of them that hate me, thou that liftest me up from the gates of death:

Have the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?

He is chastened also with pain upon his bed, and the multitude of his bones with strong pain:

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