Job 7
1 Has not man his ordered time of trouble on the earth? and are not his days like the days of a servant working for payment?
Is there not a war-service for man on the earth? Are not his days as the days of a hireling?
2 As a servant desiring the shades of evening, and a workman looking for his payment:
As a servant panteth for the shade, And as a hireling looketh for his wages,
3 So I have for my heritage months of pain to no purpose, and nights of weariness are given to me.
So am I made to possess months of affliction, And wearisome nights are appointed for me.
4 When I go to my bed, I say, When will it be time to get up? but the night is long, and I am turning from side to side till morning light.
If I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? And I am full of restlessness until the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is covered with worms and dust; my skin gets hard and then is cracked again.
My flesh is clothed with worms, and clods of dust; My skin is broken and become loathsome.
6 My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle; They pass away without hope.
7 O, keep in mind that my life is wind: my eye will never again see good.
O remember that my life is a breath; That mine eye shall no more see good!
8 The eye of him who sees me will see me no longer: your eyes will be looking for me, but I will be gone.
The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more; Thine eyes shall look for me, but I shall not be.
9 A cloud comes to an end and is gone; so he who goes down into the underworld comes not up again. (Sheol h7585)
As the cloud dissolveth and wasteth away, So he that goeth down to the grave shall arise no more; (Sheol h7585)
10 He will not come back to his house, and his place will have no more knowledge of him.
No more shall he return to his house, And his dwelling-place shall know him no more.
11 So I will not keep my mouth shut; I will let the words come from it in the pain of my spirit, my soul will make a bitter outcry.
Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-beast, that you put a watch over me?
Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, That thou settest a watch over me?
13 When I say, In my bed I will have comfort, there I will get rest from my disease;
When I say, My bed shall relieve me, My couch shall ease my complaint,
14 Then you send dreams to me, and visions of fear;
Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me with visions;
15 So that a hard death seems better to my soul than my pains.
So that my soul chooseth strangling, Yea, death, rather than these my bones.
16 I have no desire for life, I would not be living for ever! Keep away from me, for my days are as a breath.
I am wasting away; I shall not live alway: Let me alone, for my days are a vapor!
17 What is man, that you have made him great, and that your attention is fixed on him,
What is man, that thou shouldst make great account him, And fix thy mind upon him?—
18 And that your hand is on him every morning, and that you are testing him every minute?
That thou shouldst visit him every morning, And prove him every moment?
19 How long will it be before your eyes are turned away from me, so that I may have a minute's breathing-space?
How long ere thou wilt look away from me, And let me alone, till I have time to breathe?
20 If I have done wrong, what have I done to you, O keeper of men? why have you made me a mark for your blows, so that I am a weariness to myself?
If I have sinned, what have I done to thee, O thou watcher of men! Why hast thou set me up as thy mark, So that I have become a burden to myself?
21 And why do you not take away my sin, and let my wrongdoing be ended? for now I go down to the dust, and you will be searching for me with care, but I will be gone.
And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, And take away mine iniquity? For soon shall I sleep in the dust; And, though thou seek me diligently, I shall not be.
