⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.

²⁵ Now my days are swifter than a post: They flee away, they see no good,

¹⁵ Where then is my hope? And as for my hope, who shall see it?

²⁴ For, All flesh is as grass, And all the glory thereof as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower falleth:

¹² My dwelling is removed, and is carried away from me as a shepherd's tent: I have rolled up, like a weaver, my life; he will cut me off from the loom: From day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.

¹³ I quieted `myself' until morning; as a lion, so he breaketh all my bones: From day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.

¹¹ My days are past, my purposes are broken off, Even the thoughts of my heart.

¹³ Wherefore girding up the loins of your mind, be sober and set your hope perfectly on the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ;

¹⁴ whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. What is your life? For ye are a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

¹¹ For the sun ariseth with the scorching wind, and withereth the grass: and the flower thereof falleth, and the grace of the fashion of it perisheth: so also shall the rich man fade away in his goings.

¹² that ye were at that time separate from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of the promise, having no hope and without God in the world.

²⁵ Withhold thy foot from being unshod, and thy throat from thirst: but thou saidst, It is in vain; no, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go.

⁶ The voice of one saying, Cry. And one said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field.

⁷ The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because the breath of Jehovah bloweth upon it; surely the people is grass.

³² The wicked is thrust down in his evil-doing; But the righteous hath a refuge in his death.

⁴ Man is like to vanity: His days are as a shadow that passeth away.

¹⁵ As for man, his days are as grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

¹⁶ For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; And the place thereof shall know it no more.

¹¹ My days are like a shadow that declineth; And I am withered like grass.

⁵ Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: In the morning they are like grass which groweth up.

⁶ In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; In the evening it is cut down, and withereth.

²² For when a few years are come, I shall go the way whence I shall not return.

¹⁵ Behold, he will slay me; I have no hope: Nevertheless I will maintain my ways before him.

¹¹ What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is mine end, that I should be patient?