That the triumphing of the wicked is short, And the joy of the godless but for a moment? Though his height mount up to the heavens, And his head reach unto the clouds; Yet he shall perish for ever like his own dung: They that have seen him shall say, Where is he? He shall fly away as a dream, and shall not be found: Yea, he shall be chased away as a vision of the night. The eye which saw him shall see him no more; Neither shall his place any more behold him.
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