Doing great things, and there is no searching. Wonderful, till there is no numbering.

If I lay down then I said, 'When do I rise!' And evening hath been measured, And I have been full of tossings till dawn.

How long dost Thou not look from me? Thou dost not desist till I swallow my spittle.

Till when dost thou speak these things? And a strong wind -- sayings of thy mouth?

Doing great things till there is no searching, And wonderful, till there is no numbering.

Look away from off him that he may cease, Till he enjoy as an hireling his day.

And man hath lain down, and riseth not, Till the wearing out of the heavens they awake not, Nor are roused from their sleep.

O that in Sheol Thou wouldest conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.

If a man dieth -- doth he revive? All days of my warfare I wait, till my change come.

Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?

Pollution to me -- if I justify you, Till I expire I turn not aside mine integrity from me.

Lo, I have waited for your words, I give ear unto your reasons, Till ye search out sayings.