15 And a spirit before my face doth pass, Stand up doth the hair of my flesh;
16 It standeth, and I discern not its aspect, A similitude [is] over-against mine eyes, Silence! and a voice I hear:
17 `Is mortal man than God more righteous? Than his Maker is a man cleaner?
18 Lo, in His servants He putteth no credence, Nor in His messengers setteth praise.`
19 Also -- the inhabitants of houses of clay, (Whose foundation [is] in the dust, They bruise them before a moth.)
20 From morning to evening are beaten down, Without any regarding, for ever they perish.
21 Hath not their excellency been removed with them? They die, and not in wisdom!
