My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished--graves are for me.

If not--mockeries are with me. And in their provocations mine eye lodgeth.

Place, I pray Thee, my pledge with Thee; Who is he that striketh hand with me?

For their heart Thou hast hidden From understanding, Therefore Thou dost not exalt them.

For a portion he sheweth friendship, And the eyes of his sons are consumed.

And he set me up for a proverb of the peoples, And a wonder before them I am.

And dim from sorrow is mine eye, And my members as a shadow all of them.

Astonished are the upright at this, And the innocent against the profane Stirreth himself up.

And the righteous layeth hold on his way, And the clean of hands addeth strength, And--dumb are they all.

Return, and come in, I pray you, And I find not among you a wise man.

My days have passed by, My devices have been broken off, The possessions of my heart!

Night for day they appoint, Light is near because of darkness.

If I wait--Sheol is my house, In darkness I have spread out my couch.

To corruption I have called: --`Thou art my father.' `My mother' and `my sister' --to the worm.

And where is now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?

To the parts of Sheol ye go down, If together on the dust we may rest.