Sure each man walks in a vain show; they vex themselves in vain: He heaps up wealth, and doth not know to whom it shall pertain.
'Tis vain for you to rise betimes, or late from rest to keep, To feed on sorrows' bread; so gives he his beloved sleep.
What man is he that liveth here, and death shall never see? Or from the power of the grave what man his soul shall free?
Man is like vanity; his days, as shadows, pass away.