He has broken my strength in midcourse;
He has shortened my days.
My dwelling is plucked up and removed from me
like a shepherd’s tent.
I have rolled up my life like a weaver;
He cuts me off from the loom.
You make an end of me from day until night.
My days pass more swiftly than a weaver’s shuttle;
they come to an end without hope.
My days fly by faster than a runner;
they flee without seeing any good.
The mother of seven grew faint;
she breathed her last breath.
Her sun set while it was still day;
she was ashamed and humiliated.
The rest of them I will give over to the sword
in the presence of their enemies.”
This is the Lord’s declaration.
My spirit is broken.
My days are extinguished.
A graveyard awaits me.
My days have slipped by;
my plans have been ruined,
even the things dear to my heart.
Why not forgive my sin
and pardon my transgression?
For soon I will lie down in the grave.
You will eagerly seek me, but I will be gone.
I said: In the prime of my life
I must go to the gates of Sheol;
I am deprived of the rest of my years.
His bones may be full of youthful vigor,
but will lie down with him in the grave.