Post by 146C9g…Hytb

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

He comes out like a flower, and is cut down: he goes in flight like a shade, and is never seen again.

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

If only a clean thing might come out of an unclean! But it is not possible.

If his days are ordered, and you have knowledge of the number of his months, having given him a fixed limit past which he may not go;

Let your eyes be turned away from him, and take your hand from him, so that he may have pleasure at the end of his day, like a servant working for payment.

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

Though its root may be old in the earth, and its cut-off end may be dead in the dust;

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

The waters go from a pool, and a river becomes waste and dry;

If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!

So man goes down to his last resting-place and comes not again: till the heavens come to an end, they will not be awake or come out of their sleep.

If death takes a man, will he come to life again? All the days of my trouble I would be waiting, till the time came for me to be free.

At the sound of your voice I would give an answer, and you would have a desire for the work of your hands.

For now my steps are numbered by you, and my sin is not overlooked.

My wrongdoing is corded up in a bag, and my sin is shut up safe.

But truly a mountain falling comes to dust, and a rock is moved from its place;

The stones are crushed small by the force of the waters; the dust of the earth is washed away by their overflowing: and so you put an end to the hope of man.

His sons come to honour, and he has no knowledge of it; they are made low, but he is not conscious of it.

You overcome him for ever, and he is gone; his face is changed in death, and you send him away.

Only his flesh still has pain, and his soul is sad.

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

He comes out like a flower, and is cut down: he goes in flight like a shade, and is never seen again.

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

If only a clean thing might come out of an unclean! But it is not possible.

If his days are ordered, and you have knowledge of the number of his months, having given him a fixed limit past which he may not go;

Let your eyes be turned away from him, and take your hand from him, so that he may have pleasure at the end of his day, like a servant working for payment.

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

Though its root may be old in the earth, and its cut-off end may be dead in the dust;

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

Though its root may be old in the earth, and its cut-off end may be dead in the dust;

If death takes a man, will he come to life again? All the days of my trouble I would be waiting, till the time came for me to be free.

The waters go from a pool, and a river becomes waste and dry;

Let your eyes be turned away from him, and take your hand from him, so that he may have pleasure at the end of his day, like a servant working for payment.

The waters go from a pool, and a river becomes waste and dry;

The stones are crushed small by the force of the waters; the dust of the earth is washed away by their overflowing: and so you put an end to the hope of man.

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

If his days are ordered, and you have knowledge of the number of his months, having given him a fixed limit past which he may not go;

If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

He comes out like a flower, and is cut down: he goes in flight like a shade, and is never seen again.

For now my steps are numbered by you, and my sin is not overlooked.

His sons come to honour, and he has no knowledge of it; they are made low, but he is not conscious of it.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

If his days are ordered, and you have knowledge of the number of his months, having given him a fixed limit past which he may not go;

At the sound of your voice I would give an answer, and you would have a desire for the work of your hands.

But truly a mountain falling comes to dust, and a rock is moved from its place;

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

If death takes a man, will he come to life again? All the days of my trouble I would be waiting, till the time came for me to be free.

He comes out like a flower, and is cut down: he goes in flight like a shade, and is never seen again.

So man goes down to his last resting-place and comes not again: till the heavens come to an end, they will not be awake or come out of their sleep.

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

If only a clean thing might come out of an unclean! But it is not possible.

You overcome him for ever, and he is gone; his face is changed in death, and you send him away.

His sons come to honour, and he has no knowledge of it; they are made low, but he is not conscious of it.

My wrongdoing is corded up in a bag, and my sin is shut up safe.

At the sound of your voice I would give an answer, and you would have a desire for the work of your hands.

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

The stones are crushed small by the force of the waters; the dust of the earth is washed away by their overflowing: and so you put an end to the hope of man.

You overcome him for ever, and he is gone; his face is changed in death, and you send him away.

Though its root may be old in the earth, and its cut-off end may be dead in the dust;

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

My wrongdoing is corded up in a bag, and my sin is shut up safe.

If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!

Only his flesh still has pain, and his soul is sad.

So man goes down to his last resting-place and comes not again: till the heavens come to an end, they will not be awake or come out of their sleep.

But truly a mountain falling comes to dust, and a rock is moved from its place;

Let your eyes be turned away from him, and take your hand from him, so that he may have pleasure at the end of his day, like a servant working for payment.

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

If only a clean thing might come out of an unclean! But it is not possible.

For now my steps are numbered by you, and my sin is not overlooked.

Only his flesh still has pain, and his soul is sad.

Though its root may be old in the earth, and its cut-off end may be dead in the dust;

His sons come to honour, and he has no knowledge of it; they are made low, but he is not conscious of it.

If death takes a man, will he come to life again? All the days of my trouble I would be waiting, till the time came for me to be free.

If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!

My wrongdoing is corded up in a bag, and my sin is shut up safe.

At the sound of your voice I would give an answer, and you would have a desire for the work of your hands.

For there is hope of a tree; if it is cut down, it will come to life again, and its branches will not come to an end.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

The waters go from a pool, and a river becomes waste and dry;

He comes out like a flower, and is cut down: he goes in flight like a shade, and is never seen again.

For now my steps are numbered by you, and my sin is not overlooked.

Only his flesh still has pain, and his soul is sad.

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

The stones are crushed small by the force of the waters; the dust of the earth is washed away by their overflowing: and so you put an end to the hope of man.

But truly a mountain falling comes to dust, and a rock is moved from its place;

So man goes down to his last resting-place and comes not again: till the heavens come to an end, they will not be awake or come out of their sleep.

If his days are ordered, and you have knowledge of the number of his months, having given him a fixed limit past which he may not go;

If only a clean thing might come out of an unclean! But it is not possible.

Let your eyes be turned away from him, and take your hand from him, so that he may have pleasure at the end of his day, like a servant working for payment.