²⁵ Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good.

⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.

⁷ O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.

¹⁴ Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

⁹ For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale that is told.

¹⁰ The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

⁴⁷ Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all men in vain?

¹¹ When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: surely every man is vanity. Selah.

⁵ Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah.

¹⁴ So the posts that rode upon mules and camels went out, being hastened and pressed on by the king's commandment. And the decree was given at Shushan the palace.