Psalms 41:4-8

So in my sickness I say to you, “Lord, be my kind healer. Heal my body and soul; heal me, God! For I have confessed my sins to you.” But those who hate me wish the worst for me, saying, “When will he die and be forgotten?” And when these “friends” come to visit me with their pious sympathy and their hollow words and with hypocrisy hidden in their hearts, I can see right through it all. For they come merely to gather gossip about me, using all they find to mock me with malicious hearts of slander. They are wicked whisperers who imagine the worst for me, repeating their rumors, saying, “He got what he deserved; it’s over for him! The spirit of infirmity is upon him, and he’ll never get over this illness.”