Job 7
1 Is there not a warfare to a mortal, upon earth? And, as the days of a hireling, are not his days?
The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.
2 As, a bondman, panteth for the shadow, and as, a hireling, longeth for his wage,
As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;
3 So, have I been made to inherit months of calamity, and, nights of weariness, have been appointed me.
So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.
4 As soon as I lie down, I say, When shall I arise? yet he lengtheneth out the evening, and I am wearied with tossings until the breeze of twilight.
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 flesh is clothed with worms and a coating of dust, My skin, hath hardened, and then run afresh:
My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together.
6 My days, are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they are spent, without hope.
My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.
7 Remember thou, that, a wind, is my life, not again shall mine eye see blessing:
Remember that my life is but wind, and my eyes shall not return to see good things.
8 Nor shall see me—the eye that used to behold me, Thine eyes, are upon me, and I am not.
Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.
As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. (Sheol h7585)
10 He shall not return again to his house, and his own place shall be acquainted with him no more.
Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
11 I also, cannot restrain my mouth, —I must speak, in the anguish of my spirit, I must find utterance, 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, a sea, or a sea-monster, —That thou shouldst set over me a watch?
Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison?
13 When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall help to carry my complaint,
If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch:
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, and, by visions, dost thou terrify me:
Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions.
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, Death, rather than [these] my bones!
So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.
16 I am wasted away, Not, to times age-abiding, can I live, Let me alone, for, a breath, are my days.
I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing.
17 What is a mortal, that thou shouldst nurture him? Or that thou shouldst fix upon him thy mind?
What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him?
18 That thou shouldst inspect him morning by morning, moment by moment, shouldst test him?
Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly.
19 How long wilt thou not look away from me? Wilt thou not let me alone, till I can swallow my spittle?
How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle?
20 I have sinned, What can I do for thee, thou watcher of men? Wherefore hast thou set me as thine object of attack, or have I become, unto thee, a burden?
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 And why wilt thou not remove my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? For, now, in the dust, should I lie down, and thou shouldst seek me diligently, and I should not be.
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.
