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 war-service for man on the earth? Are not his days as 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 panteth for the shade, And as a hireling 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 affliction, And wearisome nights are appointed for 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.
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 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 is broken and become loathsome.
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; They pass away 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; That 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 hath seen me shall see me no more; Thine eyes shall look for me, but I shall not be.
9 Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend. (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 return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
No more shall he return to his house, And his dwelling-place shall know him no 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 restrain 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 relieve 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 with visions;
15 so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
So that my soul chooseth strangling, Yea, 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 am wasting away; I shall not live alway: Let me alone, for my days are a vapor!
17 What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
What is man, that thou shouldst make great account him, And fix thy mind upon him?—
18 You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
That thou shouldst visit him every morning, And prove him every moment?
19 How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
How long ere thou wilt look away from me, And let me alone, till I have time to breathe?
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 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 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 soon shall I sleep in the dust; And, though thou seek me diligently, I shall not be.
