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Job
Chapter 7
1 Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his
days also like the days of an hireling?
2 As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling
looketh for the reward of his work:
3 So am I made to possess months of vanity, 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 is
broken, and become loathsome.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent
without hope.
7 O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.
8 The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes
are upon me, and I am not.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth
down to the grave 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 whale, 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 my
life.
16 I loathe it; 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 thine heart upon him?
18 And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him
every moment?
19 How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I
swallow down my spittle?
20 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 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.