Job 7:1-7 ▼

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.