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1 Is there not warfare to man upon the earth, and his days as the days of a hireling? 2 As the servant will gape for the shadow, and as the hireling will wait for his work: 3 So was I caused to possess to me months of vanity, and nights of toil were allotted to me. 4 If I lay down, and I said, When shall I arise, and the evening be measured? And I was filled with tossings even to the twilight. 5 And my flesh was clothed with worms, and a clod of dust; my akin was contracted and melted away. 6 My days were swift above a weaver's shuttle, and will finish with no more of hope. 7 Remember that my life is wind: mine eyes shall not turn back to see good. Job 7:1-7, Smith's Literal Translation. Public domain.
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