“The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.”
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The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment.
We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags.
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