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1 “Is not man consigned to labor on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired hand? 2 Like a slave he longs for shade; like a hireling he waits for his wages. 3 So I am allotted months of futility, and nights of misery are appointed to me. 4 When I lie down I think: ‘When will I get up?’ But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. 5 My flesh is clothed with worms and encrusted with dirt; my skin is cracked and festering. 6 My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope. 7 Remember that my life is but a breath. My eyes will never again see happiness. Job 7:1-7, Majority Standard Bible. Public domain.
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