is there not an appointed time to man upon earth are not his days also like the days of an hireling
as a servant earnestly desireth the shadow and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work
so am i made to possess months of vanity and wearisome nights are appointed
when i lie down i say when shall i arise and the night be gone and i am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day
my flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust my skin is broken and become loathsome
my days are swifter than a weavers shuttle and are spent without hope
o remember that my life is wind mine eye shall no more see good
the eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more thine eyes
as the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up
he shall return no more to his house neither shall his place know
therefore i will not refrain my mouth i will speak in the anguish of my spirit i will complain in the bitterness of my soul
am i a sea or a whale that thou settest a watch
when i say my bed shall comfort me my couch shall ease my complaint
then thou scarest me with dreams and terrifiest me through visions
so that my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than my life
i loathe it i would not live alway let me alone for my days are vanity
what is man that thou shouldest magnify him and that thou shouldest set thine heart
and that thou shouldest visit him every morning and try him every moment
how long wilt thou not depart from me nor let me alone till i swallow down my spittle
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
and why dost thou not pardon my transgression and take away mine iniquity for now shall i sleep in the dust and thou shalt seek me in the morning