for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.
Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.
But man dies, and is laid low; man breathes his last, and where is he?
The eye which saw him will see him no more, nor will his place any more behold him.
A voice says, “Cry!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass, and all its beauty 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 is grass.