Job 7

¹ Is not man’s life on earth nothing more than pressed service, his time no better than hired drudgery?

² Like the slave, sighing for the shade, or the workman with no thought but his wages,

³ months of delusion I have assigned to me, nothing for my own but nights of grief.

⁴ Lying in bed I wonder, ‘When will it be day?’ Risen I think, ‘How slowly evening comes!’ Restlessly I fret till twilight falls.

⁵ Vermin cover my flesh, and loathsome scabs; my skin is cracked and oozes pus.

⁶ Swifter than a weaver’s shuttle my days have passed, and vanished, leaving no hope behind.

⁷ Remember that my life is but a breath, and that my eyes will never again see joy.

⁸ The eye that once saw me will look on me no more, your eyes will turn my way, and I shall not be there.

⁹ As a cloud dissolves and is gone, so he who goes down to Sheol never ascends again.

¹⁰ He never comes home again, and his house knows him no more.

¹¹ No wonder then if I cannot keep silence; in the anguish of my spirit I must speak, lament in the bitterness of my soul.

¹² Am I the Sea, or the Wild Sea Beast,[*a] that you should keep me under watch and guard?

¹³ If I say, ‘My bed will comfort me, my couch will soothe my pain’,

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

¹⁵ Strangling I would welcome rather, and death itself, than these my sufferings.

¹⁶ I waste away, my life is not unending; leave me then, for my days are but a breath.

¹⁷ What is man that you should make so much of him, subjecting him to your scrutiny,

¹⁸ that morning after morning you should examine him and at every instant test him?

¹⁹ Will you never take your eyes off me long enough for me to swallow my spittle?

²⁰ Suppose I have sinned, what have I done to you, you tireless watcher of mankind? Why do you choose me as your target? Why should I be a burden to you?

²¹ Can you not tolerate my sin, nor overlook my fault? It will not be long before I lie in earth; then you will look for me, but I shall be no more.