Job 7
1The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.
2Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,
3so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.
4If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness.
5My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.
6My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.
7Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.
8Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.
9Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend.
10He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
11And because of this, I will not restrain my mouth. I will speak in the affliction of my spirit. I will converse from the bitterness of my soul.
12Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?
13If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”
14then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,
15so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
16I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.
17What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
18You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
19How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
20I have sinned; what should I do for you, O keeper of men? Why have you set me against you, so that I have become burdensome even to myself?
21Why do you not steal away my sin, and why do you not sweep away my iniquity? Behold, now I will sleep in the dust, and if you seek me in the morning, I will not remain.
1Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?
2As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:
3So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
5My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
6My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.
8The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.
9As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.
10He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
11Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?
13When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint;
14Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:
15So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.
16I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?
18And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?
19How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
20I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?
21And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.