Job7

Is there not an appointed time to man on earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?

As a servant earnestly desires the shadow, and as an hireling looks for the reward of his work:

So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.

When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro to the dawning of the day.

My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.

O remember that my life is wind: my eye shall no more see good.

The eye of him that has seen me shall see me no more: your eyes are on me, and I am not.

As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away: so he that goes down to the grave shall come up no more.

He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

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.

Am I a sea, or a whale, that you set a watch over me?

When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaints;

Then you scare me with dreams, and terrify me through visions:

So that my soul chooses strangling, and death rather than my life.

I loathe it; I would not live always: let me alone; for my days are vanity.

What is man, that you should magnify him? and that you should set your heart on him?

And that you should visit him every morning, and try him every moment?

How long will you not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?

I have sinned; what shall I do to you, O you preserver of men? why have you set me as a mark against you, so that I am a burden to myself?

And why do you not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and you shall seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.