My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
Ver. 15. My strength is dried up like a potsherd] My spirits are utterly spent, my natural moisture quite wasted and dried up, Viror meus. Humidum radicale membra in unum conglutinans (Aben Ezra); so that I am even like a skin bottle in the smoke, &c. For "my strength" some read my palate.
And my tongue cleaveth to my jaws] That which feedeth and facilitateth the motion of the tongue in speech is exhausted. Consider here the greatness of the divine displeasure poured upon Christ, our surety. Words are too weak to utter it.
And thou hast brought me into the dust of death] Here is the utmost of our Saviour's humiliation. While alive he was a worm and no man; but now he is lower; for a living dog is better than a dead lion, saith Solomon. O humble Saviour, whither wilt thou descend? Oh that the same mind might be in us, that was in Christ Jesus.