When they are scorched, they dry up, when it is hot, they vanish from their place.

Do you count the months they must fulfill, and do you know the time they give birth?

But as soon as she springs up, she laughs at the horse and its rider.

You will come to your grave in a full age, As stacks of grain are harvested in their season.

men who were carried off before their time, when the flood was poured out on their foundations?

Will he find delight in the Almighty? Will he call out to God at all times?

which I reserve for the time of trouble, for the day of war and battle?

Can you lead out the constellations in their seasons, or guide the Bear with its cubs?

“Are you acquainted with the way the mountain goats give birth? Do you watch as the wild deer give birth to their young?

“Why are times not appointed by the Almighty? Why do those who know him not see his days?