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?
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.
for which cause also these things I suffer, but I am not ashamed, for I have known in whom I have believed, and have been persuaded that he is able that which I have committed to him to guard -- to that day.