The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.

2 As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;

3 So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.

4 If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall I rise? and again, I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.

5 My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust; my skin is withered and drawn together.

6 My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.

7 Remember that my life is but wind, and my eye shall not return to see good things.

8 Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.

9 As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up.

10 Nor shall he return any more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more

11 Wherefore, I will not spare my mouth, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.