For the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more.
The grass withers, the flower fades, because the breath of LORD blows upon it. Surely the people is grass.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
If he is destroyed from his place, then it shall deny him, [saying], I have not seen thee.
Terrors overtake him like waters. A tempest steals him away in the night.