What is my strength that I should wait? And what is my end that I should prolong my life?
Are not my days few? Then cease and let me alone, that I may take a little comfort
Will You terrify a leaf driven to and fro? Will you pursue the dry stubble?
And he wears out like a rotten thing, like a garment which a moth eats.
My spirit is in trouble; my days are extinguished; graves are for me.
If I wait for Sheol as my house, I have spread out my bed in the darkness;
As for me, is my complaint to man? And why should not my spirit be short?
How have you helped the powerless, or saved the arm not strong?
Is my strength the strength of stones? Or is my flesh of bronze?
He weakened his strength in the way; He shortened my days.
O Jehovah, make me to know my end and the limit of my days, what it is. Let me know how lacking I am.
Behold, like a handbreadth You gave my days; even my life was non-existence before You; surely every man standing is all vanity. Selah.