Job 7
1 Is there not a war-service for man on the earth? Are not his days as the days of a hireling?
The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.
2 As a servant panteth for the shade, And as a hireling looketh for his wages,
Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,
3 So am I made to possess months of affliction, And wearisome nights are appointed for me.
so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.
4 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.
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.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms, and clods of dust; My skin is broken and become loathsome.
My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle; They pass away without hope.
My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.
7 O remember that my life is a breath; That mine eye shall no more see good!
Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.
8 The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more; Thine eyes shall look for me, but I shall not be.
Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.
9 As the cloud dissolveth and wasteth away, So he that goeth down to the grave shall arise no more; (Sheol h7585)
Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend. (Sheol h7585)
10 No more shall he return to his house, And his dwelling-place shall know him no more.
He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
11 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.
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.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, That thou settest a watch over me?
Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?
13 When I say, My bed shall relieve me, My couch shall ease my complaint,
If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me with visions;
then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, Yea, death, rather than these my bones.
so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
16 I am wasting away; I shall not live alway: Let me alone, for my days are a vapor!
I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.
17 What is man, that thou shouldst make great account him, And fix thy mind upon him?—
What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
18 That thou shouldst visit him every morning, And prove him every moment?
You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
19 How long ere thou wilt look away from me, And let me alone, till I have time to breathe?
How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
20 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?
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?
21 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.
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.
