Job 7
1 "Does not man have hard service on earth? 1 Are not his days like those of a hired man?
2 Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, 2 or a hired man waiting eagerly for his wages,
3 so I have been allotted months of futility, 3 and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
4 When I lie down I think, 'How long before I get up?' 4 The night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
5 My body is clothed with worms and scabs, 5 my skin is broken and festering.
6 "My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, 6 and they come to an end without hope.
7 Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; 7 my eyes will never see happiness again.
