²⁰ Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,

¹ Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.

¹³ O spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go hence, and be no more.

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

⁷ O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.

¹⁶ I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.

¹⁷ What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?

¹⁸ And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?

¹⁹ How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?

²⁰ I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?

²¹ And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.

⁹ (For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth are a shadow:)

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

²⁶ They are passed away as the swift ships: as the eagle that hasteth to the prey.

²¹ Withdraw thine hand far from me: and let not thy dread make me afraid.

⁵ Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah.

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.