Job 7
1 The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.
Is there not a time of service to man upon earth? And are not his days like the days of a hireling?
2 Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,
As a servant that eagerly longeth for the shadow, and as a hireling that looketh for his wages;
3 so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.
So am I made to possess — months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 If 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.
When I lie down, I say: 'When shall I arise?' But the night is long, and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.
My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin closeth up and breaketh out afresh.
6 My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7 Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.
O remember that my life is a breath; mine eye shall no more see good.
8 Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.
The eye of him that seeth me shall behold me no more; while Thine eyes are upon me, I am gone.
9 Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend. (Sheol h7585)
As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. (Sheol h7585)
10 He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
11 And 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.
Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?
Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, that Thou settest a watch over me?
13 If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”
When I say: 'My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint';
14 then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,
Then Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions;
15 so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than these my bones.
16 I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.
I loathe it; I shall not live alway; let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17 What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
What is man, that Thou shouldest magnify him, and that Thou shouldest set Thy heart upon him,
18 You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
And that Thou shouldest remember him every morning, and try him every moment?
19 How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
How long wilt Thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
20 I 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?
If I have sinned, what do I unto Thee, O Thou watcher of men? Why hast Thou set me as a mark for Thee, so that I am a burden to myself?
21 Why 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.
And why dost Thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? For now shall I lie down in the dust; and Thou wilt seek me, but I shall not be.
