YLT(i)
12 And unto me a thing is secretly brought, And receive doth mine ear a little of it.
13 In thoughts from visions of the night, In the falling of deep sleep on men,
14 Fear hath met me, and trembling, And the multitude of my bones caused to fear.
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!