Job.
Chapter 14.
“Man, born of woman! Of few days, and full of trouble! 
As a flower he has gone forth, and is cut off, || And he flees as a shadow and does not stand. 
Also—on this You have opened Your eyes, and bring me into judgment with You. 
Who gives a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one. 
If his days are determined, || The number of his months are with You, || You have made his limit, || And he does not pass over; 
Look away from off him that he may cease, || Until he enjoy as a hired worker his day. 
For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, || That it changes again, || That its tender branch does not cease. 
If its root becomes old in the earth, || And its stem dies in the dust, 
From the fragrance of water it flourishes, || And has made a crop as a plant. 
And a man dies, and becomes weak, || And man expires, and where is he? 
Waters have gone away from a sea, || And a river becomes waste and dry. 
And man has lain down, and does not rise, || Until the wearing out of the heavens they do not awaken, || Nor are roused from their sleep. 
O that You would conceal me in Sheol, || Hide me until the turning of Your anger, || Set a limit for me, and remember me. 
If a man dies—does he revive? All the days of my warfare I wait, until my change comes. 
You call, and I answer You; To the work of Your hands You have desire. 
But now, You number my steps, || You do not watch over my sin. 
My transgression is sealed up in a bag, and You sew up my iniquity. 
And yet, a falling mountain wastes away, and a rock is removed from its place. 
Waters have worn away stones, || Their outpourings wash away the dust of earth, || And You have destroyed the hope of man. 
You prevail over him forever, and he goes, || He is changing his countenance, || And You send him away. 
His sons are honored, and he does not know; And they are little, and he does not attend to them. 
Only—his flesh is pained for him, || And his soul mourns for him.”