For what `is' his delight in his house after him, And the number of his months cut off?
Honoured are his sons, and he knoweth not; And they are little, and he attendeth not to them.
If determined are his days, The number of his months `are' with Thee, His limit Thou hast made, And he passeth not over;
His own eyes see his destruction, And of the wrath of the Mighty he drinketh.
To God doth `one' teach knowledge, And He the high doth judge?
I say, `My God, take me not up in the midst of my days,' Through all generations `are' Thine years.
And Thou, O God, dost bring them down To a pit of destruction, Men of blood and deceit reach not to half their days, And I -- I do trust in Thee!