who do not know the thing of the morrow; for what is your life? for it is a vapour that is appearing for a little, and then is vanishing;
And Barzillai saith unto the king, `How many are the days of the years of my life, that I go up with the king to Jerusalem?
For consumed in smoke have been my days, And my bones as a fire-brand have burned.
Man to vanity hath been like, His days are as a shadow passing by.
Lo, handbreadths Thou hast made my days, And mine age is as nothing before Thee, Only, all vanity is every man set up. Selah.
And He remembereth that they are flesh, A wind going on--and it returneth not.
Remember, I pray Thee, what is life-time? Wherefore in vain hast Thou created All the sons of men?
Boast not thyself of to-morrow, For thou knowest not what a day bringeth forth.
Cease for you from man, Whose breath is in his nostrils, For--in what is he esteemed?
My sojourning hath departed, And been removed from me as a shepherd's tent, I have drawn together, as a weaver, my life, By weakness it cutteth me off, From day unto night Thou dost end me.
and the rich in his becoming low, because as a flower of grass he shall pass away;
because all flesh is as grass, and all glory of man as flower of grass; wither did the grass, and the flower of it fell away,
And of all things the end hath come nigh; be sober-minded, then, and watch unto the prayers,
and the world doth pass away, and the desire of it, and he who is doing the will of God, he doth remain--to the age.