You carry them away like a flood; they fall asleep; in the morning they are like grass that grows anew:
He will fly away like a dream and will not be found; yes, he will be chased away as a vision of the night.
They were cut down before their time; their foundations were swept away by a flood.
They are broken in pieces from morning to evening; they perish forever without anyone regarding it.
They pass by like reed skiffs, like an eagle rushing upon its prey.
Like a dream when one awakes, O Lord, when awakened, You will despise their image.
My dwelling is pulled up and removed from me as a shepherd’s tent; I rolled up my life like a weaver. He cuts me off from the loom; from day even to night You make an end of me.
I composed my soul until morning, like a lion, so He breaks all my bones; from day even to night You make an end of me.
The voice said, “Cry out.” And he said, “What shall I cry out?” All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is as the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades because the Spirit of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.
For “All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withers, and its flower falls away,