Thou hast proved my heart, Thou hast inspected by night, Thou hast tried me, Thou findest nothing; My thoughts pass not over my mouth.

From the end of the heavens is his going out, And his revolution is unto their ends, And nothing is hid from his heat.

Lo, handbreadths Thou hast made my days, And mine age is as nothing before Thee, Only, all vanity is every man set up. Selah.

For at his death he receiveth nothing, His honour goeth not down after him.

As nothing, have my steps slipped, For I have been envious of the boastful,