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Futility of Days

“Does not man have hard labor on earth?
    Are not his days like those of a hired laborer?
Like a slave longing for the shadow,
    or a hired man waiting for his pay,
so I have inherited months of futility,
    and nights of distress have been appointed to me.
When I lay down I say, “When will I rise?”
The night drags on, and I toss until the day dawns.
My flesh is clothed with maggots and clods of dirt;
    My skin is broken and festering.
My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle
    and come to an end without hope.
Remember, my life is but a breath;
    my eyes will not see goodness again!
The eye that sees me now will see me no more;
your eyes will be on me, but I will be no more.
As a cloud vanishes and is gone,
    so one descending into Sheol does not come up;
10 he will never return to his house,
    his place does not know him.

11 “So I will not keep silent;
    I will speak in the distress of my spirit,
    I will complain in bitterness of soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a monster of the deep
    that You have set a watch over me?
13 When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me,
    my couch will ease my complaint,’
14 then You frighten me with dreams,
    and terrify me with visions,
15 so that my soul prefers strangulation,
    and my bones death.
16 I despise it; I would not live forever.
Leave me alone, for my days are a vapor.

17 “What is mankind,
    that You magnify him,
    that You set Your heart on him,
18 that You visit him every morning,
    and test him in every moment?
19 Will You never look away from me,
    or let me alone until I swallow my spittle?
20 Have I sinned—
    what have I done to You,
    O watcher of men?
Why have You set me as Your target?
    Have I become a burden to You?
21 Why do You not pardon my transgression,
    and take away my iniquity?
For now I will lie down in the dust,
    and You will search for me,
    but I will be gone.”

“Is not all human life a struggle?
    Our lives are like that of a hired hand,
like a worker who longs for the shade,
    like a servant waiting to be paid.
I, too, have been assigned months of futility,
    long and weary nights of misery.
Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’
    But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
My body is covered with maggots and scabs.
    My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.

Job Cries Out to God

“My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle.
    They end without hope.
O God, remember that my life is but a breath,
    and I will never again feel happiness.
You see me now, but not for long.
    You will look for me, but I will be gone.
Just as a cloud dissipates and vanishes,
    those who die[a] 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.

17 “What are people, that you should make so much of us,
    that you should think of us so often?
18 For you examine us every morning
    and test us every moment.
19 Why won’t you leave me alone,
    at least long enough for me to swallow!
20 If I have sinned, what have I done to you,
    O watcher of all humanity?
Why make me your target?
    Am I a burden to you?[b]
21 Why not just forgive my sin
    and take away my guilt?
For soon I will lie down in the dust and die.
    When you look for me, I will be gone.”

Footnotes

  1. 7:9 Hebrew who go down to Sheol.
  2. 7:20 As in Greek version; Hebrew reads target, so that I am a burden to myself?