7 For there is of a tree hope, if it be cut down, That again it doth change, That its tender branch doth not cease.
8 If its root becometh old in the earth, And its stem doth die in the dust,
9 From the fragrance of water it doth flourish, And hath made a crop as a plant.
10 And a man dieth, and becometh weak, And man expireth, and where [is] he?
11 Waters have gone away from a sea, And a river becometh waste and dry.
12 And man hath lain down, and riseth not, Till the wearing out of the heavens they awake not, Nor are roused from their sleep.
13 O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
