Job 7

1Does not man have hard service on earth, and are not his days like those of a hired worker?

2Like a servant who longs for shade, and like a hired worker who waits for his wages,

3So I have been allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery have been assigned to me.

4When I lie down, I say, “When will I arise?” But the evening drags on, and I am full of tossing until dawn.

5My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin hardens, then breaks open again.

6My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.

7Remember that my life is a breath; my eye will not again see good.

8The eye that sees me will no longer behold me; your eyes will be on me, but I will be gone.

9As a cloud fades away and vanishes, so the one who goes down to Sheol does not come up.

10He will not return to his house again, and his place will no longer recognize him.

11I also will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the distress of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.

12Am I the sea, or a sea monster, that you set a guard over me?

13When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me; my couch will bear my complaint,’

14then you terrify me with dreams and frighten me with visions.

15so that I would choose strangling, death rather than my bones.

16I despise my life; I will not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.

17What is man, that you make so much of him, and that you set your heart on him?

18that you attend to him every morning, and test him every moment?

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

20I have sinned—what can I do to you, watcher of mankind? Why have you made me your target, so that I have become a burden to myself?

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