He weakened my strength in the way; he shortened my days.
Mine age is departed, and is removed from me as a shepherd's tent: I have cut off like a weaver my life: he will cut me off with pining sickness: from day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good.
She that hath borne seven languisheth: she hath given up the ghost; her sun is gone down while it was yet day: she hath been ashamed and confounded: and the residue of them will I deliver to the sword before their enemies, saith the LORD.
My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.
My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.
And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.
I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave: I am deprived of the residue of my years.
His bones are full of the sin of his youth, which shall lie down with him in the dust.