(For we are but of yesterday, and know nothing, Because our days upon earth are a shadow);
Behold, he will slay me; I have no hope: Nevertheless I will maintain my ways before him.
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.
For who in the skies can be compared unto Jehovah? Who among the sons of the mighty is like unto Jehovah,
My dwelling is removed, and is carried away from me as a shepherd's tent: I have rolled up, like a weaver, my life; he will cut me off from the loom: From day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.