Job 7

¹ “Isn’t a man forced to labor on earth? Aren’t his days like the days of a hired hand?

² As a servant who earnestly desires the shadow, as a hireling who looks for his wages,

³ so I am made to possess months of misery, wearisome nights are appointed to me.

⁴ When I lie down, I say, ‘When will I arise, and the night be gone?’ I toss and turn until the dawning of the day.

⁵ My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust. My skin closes up, and breaks 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. My eye will no more see good.

⁸ The eye of him who sees me will see me no more. Your eyes will be on me, but I will not be.

⁹ As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away, so he who goes down to Sheol¹ will come up no more.

¹⁰ He will return no more to his house, neither will his place know him any more.

¹¹ “Therefore I will not keep silent. 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 you put a guard over me?

¹³ When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me. My couch will ease my complaint,’

¹⁴ then you scare me with dreams and terrify me through visions,

¹⁵ so that my soul chooses strangling, death rather than my bones.

¹⁶ I loathe my life. I don’t want to live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.

¹⁷ What is man, that you should magnify him, that you should set your mind on him,

¹⁸ that you should visit him every morning, and test him every moment?

¹⁹ How long will you not look away from me, nor leave me alone until I swallow down my spittle?

²⁰ If I have sinned, what do I do to you, you watcher of men? Why have you set me as a mark for you, so that I am a burden to myself?

²¹ Why do you not pardon my disobedience, and take away my iniquity? For now will I lie down in the dust. You will seek me diligently, but I will not be.”