My days are swifter than a runner; they flee without seeing good.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.
You do not even know what will happen tomorrow! What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and th
For all our days decline in Your fury; we finish our years with a sigh.
Remember the briefness of my lifespan! For what futility You have created all men!
You discipline and correct a man for his iniquity, consuming like a moth what he holds dear; surely each man is but a va
The couriers rode out in haste on their royal horses, pressed on by the command of the king. And the edict was also issu
You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing before You. Truly each man at his best exists