7 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 arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.

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 eyes shall not return to see good things.