You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning:
A voice says, “Cry!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.
for “All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls,
Like a dream when one awakes, O Lord, when you rouse yourself, you despise them as phantoms.
They were snatched away before their time; their foundation was washed away.
He will fly away like a dream and not be found; he will be chased away like a vision of the night.
They go by like skiffs of reed, like an eagle swooping on the prey.
Between morning and evening they are beaten to pieces; they perish forever without anyone regarding it.
My dwelling is plucked up and removed from me like a shepherd’s tent; like a weaver I have rolled up my life; he cuts me off from the loom; from day to night you bring me to an end;
I calmed myself until morning; like a lion he breaks all my bones; from day to night you bring me to an end.
The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass.