For the wind passes over it, and it is gone, And its place remembers it no more.
The grass withers, the flower fades, Because the breath of the Lord blows upon it; Surely the people are grass.
The eye that saw him will see him no more, Nor will his place behold him anymore.
But man dies and is laid away; Indeed he breathes his last And where is he?
And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.
The voice said, “Cry out!” And he said, “What shall I cry?” “All flesh is grass, And all its loveliness is like the flower of the field.