“My dwelling is plucked up, taken from me like a shepherd’s tent. I have cut off my life like a weaver; He cuts me off from the loom. From day to night You make an end of me.
“She shall never be inhabited, nor be settled from generation to generation; nor shall the Araḇian pitch tents there, nor shepherds rest their flocks there.
For we know that if the tent of our earthly house is destroyed, we have a building from Elohim, a house not made with hands, everlasting in the heavens.
For indeed, we who are in this tent groan, being burdened, not because we wish to put it off, but to put on the other, so that what is to die might be swallowed up by life.