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 wouldest conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
14 If a man dieth--doth he revive? All days of my warfare I wait, till my change come.
15 Thou dost call, and I--I answer Thee; To the work of Thy hands Thou hast desire.
16 But now, my steps Thou numberest, Thou dost not watch over my sin.
17 Sealed up in a bag [is] my transgression, And Thou sewest up mine iniquity.