Job 7

1Do not mortals have hard service on earth, and are their days not like the days of a hired worker? 2Like a slave who longs for the shade, and like a hired worker who waits for his pay, 3so I have been given months of emptiness as my share, and nights of misery have been assigned to me. 4When I lie down I think, “When will I get up?” But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. 5My body is covered with worms and crusts of dirt; my skin scabs over and then oozes again. 6My days go faster than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope. 7Remember that my life is only a breath; my eyes will never again see anything good. 8The eye that sees me now will see me no more; your eyes will look for me, but I will be gone. 9As a cloud fades and is gone, so whoever goes down to Sheol does not come up again. 10He will never return to his home again, and his place will know him no more. 11So I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. 12Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep, that you put me under guard? 13When I think, “My bed will comfort me, my couch will ease my complaint,” 14then you frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, 15so that I would choose to be strangled, death rather than this body of mine. 16I loathe my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone, for my days are only a breath. 17What are mortals, that you make so much of them, that you pay them so much attention, 18that you inspect them every morning and test them every moment? 19How long before you look away from me and let me alone long enough to swallow my spit? 20If I have sinned, what harm have I done to you, watcher of humankind? Why have you made me your target, so that I have become a burden to myself? 21Why do you not pardon my offense and take away my guilt? For soon I will lie down in the dust; you will look for me, but I will be gone.