Man wastes away like a rotten thing, like a garment that is moth-eaten.
When you discipline a man with rebukes for sin, you consume like a moth what is dear to him; surely all mankind is a mere breath! Selah
how much more those who dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed like the moth.
But I am like a moth to Ephraim, and like dry rot to the house of Judah.
I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat.
The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest. With great force my garment is disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic. God has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Let her not be as one dead, whose flesh is half eaten away when he comes out of his mother's womb.”
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