Job 7
1 “Isn't life for human beings like serving a sentence of hard labor? Don't their days pass like those of a hired laborer?
The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.
2 Like some slave longing for a bit of shade, like a hired hand anxiously waiting for pay day,
As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;
3 I've been given months of emptiness and nights of misery.
So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.
4 When I go to bed I ask, ‘When shall I get up?’ But the night goes on and on, and I toss and turn until dawn.
If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.
5 My body is covered with maggots and caked in dirt; my skin is cracked, with oozing sores.
My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together.
6 My days pass quicker than a weaver's shuttle and they come to an end without hope.
My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.
7 Remember that my life is just a breath; I will not see happiness again.
Remember that my life is but wind, and my eyes shall not return to see good things.
8 Those watching me won't see me anymore; your eyes will be looking for me, but I will be gone.
Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.
9 When a cloud disappears, it's gone, just as anyone who goes down to Sheol does not come back up. (Sheol h7585)
As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. (Sheol h7585)
10 They will never return home, and the people they knew will forget them.
Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
11 So, no, I won't hold my tongue—I will speak in the agony of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
Wherefore I will not spare my month, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the sea or a sea monster that you have to guard me?
Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison?
13 If I tell myself, ‘I'll feel better if I lie down in my bed,’ or ‘it will help me to lie down on my couch,’
If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch:
14 then you scare me so much with dreams and terrify me with visions
Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions.
15 that I would rather be strangled—I would rather die than become just a bag of bones.
So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.
16 I hate my life! I know I won't live long. Leave me alone because my life is just a breath.
I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing.
17 Why are human beings so important to you; why are you so concerned about them
What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him?
18 that you inspect them every morning and test them every moment? Won't you ever stop staring at me?
Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly.
19 Won't you ever leave me alone long enough to catch my breath?
How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle?
20 What have I done wrong? What have I done to you, Watcher of Humanity? Why have you made me your target, so that I'm a burden even to myself?
I have sinned: what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men? why hast thou set me opposite to thee, and I am become burdensome to myself?
21 If so why don't you pardon my sins, and take away my guilt? Right now I'm going to lie down in the dust, and though you will look for me, I will be gone.”
Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away my iniquity? Behold now I shall sleep in the dust: and if thou seek me in the morning, I shall not be.
