Coverdale(i)
6 The wynde goeth towarde ye South, & fetcheth his copase aboute vnto the North, & so turneth in to himself agayne.
7 All floudes runne in to the see, & yet the see is not fylled: for loke vnto what place the waters runne, thence they come agayne.
8 All thinges are so harde, yt no ma can expresse them. The eye is not satisfied wt sight, the eare is not fylled wt hearinge.
9 The thinge yt hath bene, cometh to passe agayne: & ye thinge yt hath bene done, is done agayne, there is no new thinge vnder the Sonne.