Man, born of woman, Is of few days and full of trouble.

He comes forth like a blossom and is cut down, He also flees like a shadow and does not remain.

And do You open Your eyes upon such a one And bring me into litigation with You?

Who can bring a clean thing out from the unclean? No one!

Since his days are determined, And the number of his months is with You; Since You have appointed his bounds, and he cannot go beyond;

Look away from him that he may rest, Until he fulfills his day like a hired hand.

For there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, And its tender shoot will not cease.

Though its root grows old in the earth, And its trunk dies in the dirt,

At the scent of water it will bud And will produce branches like a new plant.

But a man dies and is laid low; Yes, a man expires, and then where is he?

The waters of the sea recede, And the river becomes parched and dried up:

So a man lies down and does not rise up; Until the heavens are no more, he will not awake, Nor will he be roused from his sleep.

Oh that You would hide me in Sheol, That You would conceal me until Your anger has passed, That You would set me an appointed time and remember me!

If a man dies, will he live again? All the days of my service I would wait, Until a change for me should come.

You would call, and I would answer You; You would long after the work of Your hands.

For now You number my steps. Do You not watch over my sin?

My transgression has been sealed up in a bag, And You have fastened up my iniquity.

However the mountain falls and crumbles, And the rock moves from its place;

Waters wear away stones; Their torrents wash away the dust of the earth: So You destroy the hope of man.

You prevail forever against him, and he passes away; You change his countenance and send him away.

His sons gain honor, but he does not know it; And they become insignificant, but he does not perceive it.

Only the pain of his own flesh does he feel, And his own soul mourns for him.