When his breath leaves him,
he returns to the ground;
on that day his plans die.

My heart races, my strength leaves me,
and even the light of my eyes has faded.

For troubles without number have surrounded me;
my sins have overtaken me; I am unable to see.
They are more than the hairs of my head,
and my courage leaves me.

He struck their vines and fig trees
and shattered the trees of their territory.

He killed their vines with hail
and their sycamore fig trees with a flood.

He is like a tree planted beside streams of water
that bears its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.