To corruption I have called: -- `Thou `art' my father.' `My mother' and `my sister' -- to the worm.
And he, as a rotten thing, weareth away, As a garment hath a moth consumed him.
And after my skin hath compassed this `body', Then from my flesh I see God:
Together -- on the dust they lie down, And the worm doth cover them over.
Forget him doth the womb, Sweeten `on' him doth the worm, No more is he remembered, And broken as a tree is wickedness.
How much less man -- a grub, And the son of man -- a worm!
My skin hath been black upon me, And my bone hath burned from heat,
Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
For Thou dost not leave my soul to Sheol, Nor givest thy saintly one to see corruption.
And still he liveth for ever, He seeth not the pit.
Brought down to Sheol hath been thine excellency, The noise of thy psaltery, Under thee spread out hath been the worm, Yea, covering thee is the worm.
So also `is' the rising again of the dead: it is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption;