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?
Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?
2 Like some slave longing for a bit of shade, like a hired hand anxiously waiting for pay day,
As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:
3 I've been given months of emptiness and nights of misery.
So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
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.
When 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.
5 My body is covered with maggots and caked in dirt; my skin is cracked, with oozing sores.
My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
6 My days pass quicker than a weaver's shuttle and they come to an end without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7 Remember that my life is just a breath; I will not see happiness again.
O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.
8 Those watching me won't see me anymore; 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 are upon me, and I am not.
9 When a cloud disappears, it's gone, just as anyone who goes down to Sheol does not come back up. (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 They will never return home, and the people they knew will forget them.
He shall return no more to 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.
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 the sea or a sea monster that you have to guard me?
Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?
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,’
When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint;
14 then you scare me so much with dreams and terrify me with visions
Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:
15 that I would rather be strangled—I would rather die than become just a bag of bones.
So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.
16 I hate my life! I know I won't live long. Leave me alone because my life is just a breath.
I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17 Why are human beings so important to you; why are you so concerned about them
What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?
18 that you inspect them every morning and test them every moment? Won't you ever stop staring at me?
And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?
19 Won't you ever leave me alone long enough to catch my breath?
How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I 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 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?
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.”
And 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.
