Coverdale(i)
11 My dayes are past, my thoughtes are vanished awaye, which haue vexed myne herte,
12 chaunginge the night in to daye, & ye light in to darcknes.
13 Though I tary neuer so moch, yet the graue is my house, and I must make my bed in the darcke.
14 I call corrupcion my father, and the wormes call I my mother and my sister.
15 What helpeth then my longe tarienge? Or, who wil fulfill the thinge, that I loke for?