“My spirit is broken, my days have cut short, the graveyard awaits me.
“For the number of years will come to pass, and then I will go the way of no return.
My days have passed, my plans are torn apart. Yet the desires of my heart
My breath is repulsive to my wife; I am loathsome to my children.
After this, Job lived 140 years; he saw his children and their children for four generations.
“What is my strength, that I should hope? What is my end, that I should endure?
My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle and come to an end without hope.
For I will not contend forever, nor will I always be angry, for the spirit would grow weak before Me, the breath of those whom I made.