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. Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good. They are passed away as the swift ships: as the eagle that hasteth to the prey. Our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding. Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little, Before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death. We all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.
Man that is born of a woman is of FEW days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. When a few years are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not return. Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them. What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?
So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. My days are like a shadow that declineth; and I am withered like grass. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow that passeth away. His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish. For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth are a shadow.
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. Life is Short, Death is Sure, Sin the Curse, Christ the Cure. Only one life, and it will soon be past, and only what is done for Christ will last.
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. Life is Short, Death is Sure, Sin the Curse, Christ the Cure. Only one life, and it will soon be past, and only what is done for Christ will last.
