Surely man passeth as an image: yea, and he is disquieted in vain. He storeth up: and he knoweth not for whom he shall gather these things.
And forthwith an angel of the Lord struck him, because he had not given the honour to God: and being eaten up by worms, he gave up the ghost.
Who forgiveth all thy iniquities: who healeth all thy diseases.
Deep calleth on deep, at the noise of thy flood-gates. All thy heights and thy billows have passed over me.
My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust: my skin is withered and drawn together.
With the multitude of them my garment is consumed: and they have girded me about, as with the collar of my coat.
And I said to the king: O king, live for ever: Why should not my countenance be sorrowful, seeing the city of the place of the sepulchres of my fathers is desolate, and the gates thereof are burnt with fire?