So I have been assigned months of futility, and troubled nights have been counted off for me.
But now he has exhausted me; you have stunned all my companions.
For he will carry out what is appointed for me, and many such things he has in store.
Oh, that I were as in the months past, as in the days when God watched over me:
Like a slave who longs for the shade, a hireling who waits for wages,
Lord, let me know my end, the number of my days, that I may learn how frail I am.
For in death there is no remembrance of you. Who praises you in Sheol?
I am wearied with sighing; all night long I drench my bed with tears; I soak my couch with weeping.
I have seen all things that are done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a chase after wind.