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Job 7

“Is not man conscripted to labor on earth,
And are not his days like the days of a hired man?
As a slave who pants for the shade,
And as a hired man who eagerly hopes for his wages,
So am I apportioned months of worthlessness,
And nights of trouble are appointed me.
If I lie down I say,
‘When shall I arise?’
But the twilight continues,
And I am saturated with tossing until dawn.
My flesh is clothed with worms and a crust of dirt;
My skin scabs over and flows out again.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
And come to an end without hope.

“Remember that my life is but wind;
My eye will not again see good.
The eye of him who sees me will behold me no longer;
Your eyes will be on me, but I will not be.
A cloud vanishes, and it is gone,
So he who goes down to Sheol does not come up.
He will not return again to his house,
Nor will his place recognize him anymore.

“Indeed I will not hold back my mouth;
I will speak in the distress of my spirit;
I will muse on the bitterness of my soul.
Am I the sea or the sea monster,
That You set a guard over me?
If I say, ‘My bed will comfort me;
My couch will ease my bitter musing,’
Then You frighten me with dreams
And terrify me by visions,
So that my soul would choose suffocation,
Death rather than my pains.
I have rejected everything; I will not live forever.
Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.
What is man that You magnify him,
And that You set Your heart on him,
That You examine him every morning
And test him every moment?
Will You never turn Your gaze away from me,
Nor let me alone until I swallow my spit?
Have I sinned? What have I done to You,
O watcher of men?
Why have You set me as Your target,
So that I am a burden to myself?
Why then do You not forgive my transgression
And take away my iniquity?
For now I will lie down in the dust;
And You will seek me earnestly, but I will not be.”