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Psalm 39:11 - King James Version (Oxford) 1769

11 When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, Thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: Surely every man is vanity. Selah.

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অধিক সংস্কৰণ

Amplified Bible - Classic Edition

11 When with rebukes You correct and chasten man for sin, You waste his beauty like a moth and what is dear to him consumes away; surely every man is a mere breath. Selah [pause, and think calmly of that]!

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American Standard Version (1901)

11 When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, Thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: Surely every man is vanity. [Selah

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Common English Bible

11 You discipline people for their sin, punishing them; like a moth, you ruin what they treasure. Yes, a human life is just a puff of air! Selah

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Catholic Public Domain Version

11 I have not concealed your justice within my heart. I have spoken your truth and your salvation. I have not concealed your mercy and your truth from a great assembly.

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Douay-Rheims version of The Bible - 1752 version

11 I have not hid thy justice within my heart: I have declared thy truth and thy salvation. I have not concealed thy mercy and thy truth from a great council.

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Psalm 39:11
14 পৰস্পৰ সংযোগসমূহ  

And he, as a rotten thing, consumeth, As a garment that is moth eaten.


Behold, the Lord GOD will help me; who is he that shall condemn me? lo, they all shall wax old as a garment; the moth shall eat them up.


As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent.


For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, And scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.


to deliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.


but was rebuked for his iniquity: the dumb ass speaking with man's voice forbad the madness of the prophet.


Therefore will I be unto Ephraim as a moth, and to the house of Judah as rottenness.


My skin is black upon me, And my bones are burned with heat.


How much less in them that dwell in houses of clay, Whose foundation is in the dust, Which are crushed before the moth?


Let him take his rod away from me, And let not his fear terrify me:


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