Job 7:1-16 ▼

1 “Is not all human life a struggle? Our lives are like that of a hired hand,

2 like a worker who longs for the shade, like a servant waiting to be paid.

3 I, too, have been assigned months of futility, long and weary nights of misery.

4 Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’ But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.

5 My body is covered with maggots and scabs. My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.

6 “My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle. They end without hope.

7 O God, remember that my life is but a breath, and I will never again feel happiness.

8 You see me now, but not for long. You will look for me, but I will be gone.

9 Just as a cloud dissipates and vanishes, those who die will not come back.

10 They are gone forever from their home— never to be seen again.

11 “I cannot keep from speaking. I must express my anguish. My bitter soul must complain.

12 Am I a sea monster or a dragon that you must place me under guard?

13 I think, ‘My bed will comfort me, and sleep will ease my misery,’

14 but then you shatter me with dreams and terrify me with visions.

15 I would rather be strangled— rather die than suffer like this.

16 I hate my life and don’t want to go on living. Oh, leave me alone for my few remaining days.