What is my strength that I should wait? And what is my end that I should be patient?
He weakened my strength in the way. He shortened my days.
Behold, thou have made my days [as] handbreadths, and my life-time is as nothing before thee. Surely every man at his best condition is altogether vanity. Selah.
My spirit is consumed, my days are extinct, the grave is [ready] for me.
As for me, is my complaint to man? And why should I not be impatient?
Though I am like a rotten thing that decays, like a garment that is moth-eaten.
Will thou harass a driven leaf? And will thou pursue the dry stubble?
Are not my days few? Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little
Is my strength the strength of stones? Or is my flesh of brass?
How thou have helped him who is without power! How thou have saved the arm that has no strength!
LORD, make me to know my end, and the measure of my days, what it is. Let me know how frail I am.
If I look for Sheol as my house, if I have spread my couch in the darkness,