Who does great things past finding out; yea, and wonders without number.

O that you would hide me in the grave, that you would conceal me, until your wrath is past, that you would appoint me a set time, and remember me!

My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.

Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me;

And forgets that the foot may crush them, or that a wild beast may break them.