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 Sheol ^[a] 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.”