Job 7:1-7 ▼

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.