You sweep them away; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning;
They will fly away like a dream and not be found; they will be chased away like a vision of the night.
They were snatched away before their time; their foundation was washed away by a flood.
Between morning and evening they are destroyed; they perish forever without any regarding it.
They go by like skiffs of reed, like an eagle swooping on the prey.
They are like a dream when one awakes; on awaking you despise their phantoms.
My dwelling is plucked up and removed from me like a shepherd’s tent; like a weaver I have rolled up my life; he cuts me off from the loom; from day to night you bring me to an end;
I cry for help until morning; like a lion he breaks all my bones; from day to night you bring me to an end.
A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass; their constancy is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers; the flower fades, [[when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.
For “All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls,