Job 7:1-10 ▼

1 Isn’t mankind consigned to forced labor on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired hand?

2 Like a slave he longs for shade; like a hired man he waits for his pay.

3 So I have been made to inherit months of futility, and troubled nights have been assigned to me.

4 When I lie down I think: When will I get up? But the evening drags on endlessly, and I toss and turn until dawn.

5 My flesh is clothed with maggots and encrusted with dirt. My skin forms scabs and then oozes.

6 My days pass more swiftly than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.

7 Remember that my life is but a breath. My eye will never again see anything good.

8 The eye of anyone who looks on me will no longer see me. Your eyes will look for me, but I will be gone.

9 As a cloud fades away and vanishes, so the one who goes down to Sheol will never rise again.

10 He will never return to his house; his hometown will no longer remember him.