25 “Now my days are swifter than a runner;
They flee away; they do not see good.
26 They sweep by like reed boats,
Like an eagle that swoops on its food.
27 Though I say, ‘I will forget my musing,
I will forsake my sad countenance and be cheerful,’
28 I am afraid of all my pains;
I know that You will not acquit me.
29 I am accounted wicked;
Why then should I toil in vain?
30 If I should wash myself with snow
And cleanse my hands with lye,
31 Yet You would plunge me into the pit,
And my own clothes would abhor me.