You have plowed wickedness; you have reaped iniquity. You have eaten the fruit of lies because you trusted in your way, in the multitude of your mighty men.
I turned back and saw under the sun that the race is not to the swift ones, and the battle not to the mighty ones, and not even bread to the wise one, and not even riches to discerning ones; and not even favor to ones knowing. For time and occurrence happen to them all.
In the day of your planting you fence it in; in the morning you make your seed sprout; the harvest is a heap in the day of sickness and incurable pain.
For they sow the wind, and they reap the storm wind. A stalk is not to him; the bud shall make no flour. If it does make it, strangers will swallow it up.