5 Clothed hath been my flesh 'with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
6 My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
7 Remember Thou that my life 'is' a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.
8 The eye of my beholder beholdeth me not. Thine eyes 'are' upon me -- and I am not.
9 Consumed hath been a cloud, and it goeth, So he who is going down to Sheol cometh not up.
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