Days of our years, in them are seventy years, And if, by reason of might, eighty years, Yet is their enlargement labour and vanity, For it hath been cut off hastily, and we fly away.
And Jacob saith unto Pharaoh, `The days of the years of my sojournings are an hundred and thirty years; few and evil have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not reached the days of the years of the life of my fathers, in the days of their sojournings.'
A son of eighty years I am to-day; do I know between good and evil? doth thy servant taste that which I am eating, and that which I drink? do I hearken any more to the voice of singers and songstresses? and why is thy servant any more for a burden unto my lord the king?
High they were for a little, and they are not, And they have been brought low. As all others they are shut up, And as the head of an ear of corn cut off.
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.