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1 The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand. 2 Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work, 3 so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights. 4 If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness. 5 My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened. 6 My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope. 7 Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things. Job 7:1-7, Catholic Public Domain Version. Public domain.
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