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My spirit is consumed, my days are extinct, The grave is `ready' for me.

Surely there are mockers with me, And mine eye dwelleth upon their provocation.

Give now a pledge, be surety for me with thyself; Who is there that will strike hands with me?

For thou hast hid their heart from understanding: Therefore shalt thou not exalt `them'.

He that denounceth his friends for a prey, Even the eyes of his children shall fail.

But he hath made me a byword of the people; And they spit in my face.

Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, And all my members are as a shadow.

Upright men shall be astonished at this, And the innocent shall stir up himself against the godless.

Yet shall the righteous hold on his way, And he that hath clean hands shall wax stronger and stronger.

But as for you all, come on now again; And I shall not find a wise man among you.

My days are past, my purposes are broken off, Even the thoughts of my heart.

They change the night into day: The light, `say they', is near unto the darkness.

If I look for Sheol as my house; If I have spread my couch in the darkness;

If I have said to corruption, Thou art my father; To the worm, `Thou art' my mother, and my sister;

Where then is my hope? And as for my hope, who shall see it?

It shall go down to the bars of Sheol, When once there is rest in the dust.