Life: Brevity and Uncertainty of

Then Abraham answered, “Now that I have ventured to speak to the Lord—though I am but dust and ashes—

“My travels have lasted 130 years,” Jacob replied. “My years have been few and hard, and they have not matched the years of the travels of my fathers.”

But David again vowed, “Your father knows very well that I have found favor in your eyes, and he has said, ‘Jonathan must not know of this, or he will be grieved.’ As surely as the LORD lives and as you yourself live, there is but a step between me and death.”

For we will surely die and be like water poured out on the ground, which cannot be recovered. Yet God does not take away a life, but He devises ways that the banished one may not be cast out from Him.

For we are foreigners and strangers in Your presence, as were all our forefathers. Our days on earth are like a shadow, without hope.

…how much more those who dwell in houses of clay, whose foundations are in the dust, who can be crushed like a moth! …

My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope. …

What is man that You should exalt him, that You should set Your heart upon him,

For we were born yesterday and know nothing; our days on earth are but a shadow.

My days are swifter than a runner; they flee without seeing good.

They sweep by like boats of papyrus, like an eagle swooping down on its prey.

Please remember that You molded me like clay. Would You now return me to dust?

Are my days not few? Withdraw from me, that I may have a little comfort,

…before I go—never to return—to a land of darkness and gloom,

Your maxims are proverbs of ashes; your defenses are defenses of clay.

Would You frighten a windblown leaf? Would You chase after dry chaff?

So man wastes away like something rotten, like a moth-eaten garment.

“Man, who is born of woman, is short of days and full of trouble.

Like a flower, he comes forth, then withers away; like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure.

“My spirit is broken; my days are extinguished; the grave awaits me.

All the rich of the earth will feast and worship; all who go down to the dust will kneel before Him—even those unable to preserve their lives.

“Show me, O LORD, my end and the measure of my days. Let me know how fleeting my life is. …

You discipline and correct a man for his iniquity, consuming like a moth what he holds dear; surely each man is but a vapor. Selah

He remembered that they were but flesh, a passing breeze that does not return.

Remember the briefness of my lifespan! For what futility You have created all men!

What man can live and never see death? Can he deliver his soul from the power of Sheol? Selah

You return man to dust, saying, “Return, O sons of mortals.”

You sweep them away in their sleep; they are like the new grass of the morning—

…in the morning it springs up new, but by evening it fades and withers.

For all our days decline in Your fury; we finish our years with a sigh.

The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty if we are strong—yet their pride is but labor and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

My days are like lengthening shadows, and I wither away like grass.

For He knows our frame; He is mindful that we are dust. …

O LORD, what is man, that You regard him, the son of man that You think of him?

Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.

When his spirit departs, he returns to the ground; on that very day his plans perish.

Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.

Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.

For who knows what is good for a man during the few days in which he passes through his fleeting life like a shadow? Who can tell a man what will come after him under the sun?

Put no more trust in man, who has only the breath in his nostrils. Of what account is he?

My dwelling has been picked 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; from day until night You make an end of me.

A voice says, “Cry out!” And I asked, “What should I cry out?” “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field.

The grass withers and the flowers fall when the breath of the LORD blows on them; indeed, the people are grass.

No sooner are they planted, no sooner are they sown, no sooner have their stems taken root in the ground, than He blows on them and they wither, and a whirlwind sweeps them away like stubble.

Surely the Lord GOD helps Me. Who is there to condemn Me? See, they will all wear out like a garment; the moths will devour them.

For the moth will devour them like a garment, and the worm will eat them like wool. But My righteousness will last forever, My salvation through all generations.”

“I, even I, am He who comforts you. Why should you be afraid of mortal man, of a son of man who withers like grass?

Each of us has become like something unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all wither like a leaf, and our iniquities carry us away like the wind.

But the one who is rich should exult in his low position, because he will pass away like a flower of the field.

For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its flower falls and its beauty is lost. So too, the rich man will fade away in the midst of his pursuits.

You do not even know what will happen tomorrow! What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

For, “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall,