“I am now eighty years old. Do I discern between the good and evil? Does your servant taste what I eat or what I drink? Do I still hear the voice of singing men and singing women? Why then should your servant be a further burden to my master the sovereign?
“Please let your servant turn back again to die in my own city, near the burying-place of my father and mother. But here is your servant Kimham, let him pass over with my master the sovereign, and do for him what is good in your eyes.”
The days of our lives are seventy years; Or if due to strength, eighty years, Yet the best of them is but toil and exertion; For it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
“Give, and it shall be given to you. A good measure, pressed down and shaken together and running over shall be put into your lap. For with the same measure with which you measure, it shall be measured back to you.”
