Great(i)
11 My dayes are past, and my councels and thoughtes of my hart are vanysshed awaye
12 chaungynge the night into daye, and the light into darcknes.
13 Though I tary neuer so moch, yet the graue is my house, and I haue made my bed in the darcke.
14 I call corrupcyon my father, and the wormes call I my mother and my syster.
15 What helpeth then my longe taryenge? Or, who hath considred the thynge, that I loke for?