"What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should prolong my life?"
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My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
Wilt thou break a leaf driven to and fro? and wilt thou pursue the dry stubble?
And he, as a rotten thing, consumeth, as a garment that is moth eaten.
I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister.
As for me, is my complaint to man? and if it were so, why should not my spirit be troubled?
Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up.
My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.
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.
He weakened my strength in the way; he shortened my days.
For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.
Have I strength to go on waiting, or have I any end to be looking forward to?
What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should have patience?
What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should prolong my life?
What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is my end, that I should prolong my life?
What is my strength, that I should wait? What is my end, that I should be patient?
What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?