Isn't your piety your confidence? Isn't the integrity of your ways your hope?

"Isn't a man forced to labor on earth? Aren't his days like the days of a hired hand?

He works to the north, but I can't see him. He turns south, but I can't catch a glimpse of him.

His sons come to honor, and he doesn't know it. They are brought low, but he doesn't perceive it of them.

The deep says, 'It isn't in me.' The sea says, 'It isn't with me.'

if his heart hasn't blessed me, if he hasn't been warmed with my sheep's fleece;