¹¹ What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?

¹⁴ For He hath known our frame, Remembering that we `are' dust.

¹⁵ Mortal man! as grass `are' his days, As a flower of the field so he flourisheth;

¹⁶ For a wind hath passed over it, and it is not, And its place doth not discern it any more.

²³ He hath humbled in the way my power, He hath shortened my days.

⁵ Lo, handbreadths Thou hast made my days, And mine age `is' as nothing before Thee, Only, all vanity `is' every man set up. Selah.

¹ My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.

⁵ Thou hast inundated them, they are asleep, In the morning as grass he changeth.

⁶ In the morning it flourisheth, and hath changed, At evening it is cut down, and hath withered.

⁷ For we were consumed in Thine anger, And in Thy fury we have been troubled.

⁸ Thou hast set our iniquities before Thee, Our hidden things at the light of Thy face,

⁹ For all our days pined away in Thy wrath, We consumed our years as a meditation.

¹⁰ Days of our years, in them `are' seventy years, And if, by reason of might, eighty years, Yet `is' their enlargement labour and vanity, For it hath been cut off hastily, and we fly away.

⁴ I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?

¹⁴ To corruption I have called: -- `Thou `art' my father.' `My mother' and `my sister' -- to the worm.

¹⁵ And where `is' now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?

¹⁶ `To' the parts of Sheol ye go down, If together on the dust we may rest.

²⁸ And he, as a rotten thing, weareth away, As a garment hath a moth consumed him.

²⁵ A leaf driven away dost Thou terrify? And the dry stubble dost Thou pursue?

²⁰ Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,

⁵ Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,

⁶ My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.

⁷ Remember Thou that my life `is' a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.