Job: My suffering is without consolation
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“Is not man consigned to labor on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired hand?
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Like a slave he longs for shade; like a hireling he waits for his wages.
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So I am allotted months of futility, and nights of misery are appointed me.
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When I lie down I think: ‘When will I get up?’ But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.
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My flesh is clothed with worms and encrusted with dirt; my skin is cracked and festering.
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My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.
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Remember that my life is but a breath. My eyes will never again see happiness.
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The eye that beholds me will no longer see me. You will look for me, but I will be no more.
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As a cloud vanishes and is gone, so he who goes down to Sheol does not come back up.
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He never returns to his house; his place remembers him no more.
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Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
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Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep, that You must keep me under guard?
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When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint,
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then You frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions,
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so that I would prefer strangling and death over my life in this body.
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I loathe my life! I would not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.
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What is man that You should exalt him, that You should set Your heart upon him,
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that You attend to him every morning, and test him every moment?
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Will You never look away from me, or leave me alone to swallow my spittle?
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If I have sinned, what have I done to You, O watcher of mankind? Why have You made me Your target, so that I am a burden to You (a)?
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Why do You not pardon my transgression and take away my iniquity? For soon I will lie down in the dust; You will seek me, but I will be no more.”
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