Job 7
¹ Is there not a warfare to man upon earth? And are not his days like the days of a hireling?
² As a servant that earnestly desireth the shadow, And as a hireling that looketh for his wages:
³ So am I made to possess months of misery, And wearisome nights are appointed to me.
⁴ 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 flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; My skin closeth up, and breaketh out afresh.
⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, And are spent without hope.
⁷ Oh remember that my life is a breath: Mine eye shall no more see good.
⁸ The eye of him that seeth me shall behold me no more; Thine eyes shall be upon me, but I shall not be.
⁹ As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, So he that goeth down to Sheol shall come up no more.
¹⁰ He shall return no more to his house, Neither shall his place know him any more.
¹¹ 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 a sea, or a sea-monster, That thou settest a watch over me?
¹³ When I say, My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint;
¹⁴ Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me through visions:
¹⁵ So that my soul chooseth strangling, And death rather than these my bones.
¹⁶ I loathe my life; I would not live alway: Let me alone; for my days are vanity.
¹⁷ What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him, And that thou shouldest set thy mind upon him,
¹⁸ And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, And try him every moment?
¹⁹ How long wilt thou not look away from me, Nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
²⁰ If I have sinned, what do I unto thee, O thou watcher of men? Why hast thou set me as a mark for thee, So that I am a burden to myself?
²¹ And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? For now shall I lie down in the dust; And thou wilt seek me diligently, but I shall not be.