Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket, and are accounted as the small dust of the balance: behold, he takes up the isles as a very little thing.
I, even I, am he who comforts you: who are you, that you should be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man which shall be made like grass;
Although you do not know what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appears for a little while, and then vanishes away.