²⁰ You forever prevail against him, and he passes; You change his face, and send him away.

¹² When they lifted up their eyes from a distance, and didn't recognize him, they raised their voices, and wept; and they each tore his robe, and sprinkled dust on their heads toward the sky.

¹⁴ If a man dies, shall he live again? All the days of my warfare would I wait, Until my release should come.

⁸ There is no man who has power over the spirit to contain the spirit; neither does he have power over the day of death. There is no discharge in war; neither shall wickedness deliver those who practice it.

⁸ Their visage is blacker than a coal; they are not known in the streets: Their skin cleaves to their bones; it is withered, it is become like a stick.