7 Is
there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like
the days of an hireling? 2 As
a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for
the reward of his work: 3 So
am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed
to me. 4 When
I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am
full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day. 5 My
flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and
become loathsome. 6 My
days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope. 7 O
remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good. 8 The
eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon
me, and I am not. 9 As
the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the
grave shall come up no more. 10 He
shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any
more.
11
Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my
spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. 12 Am
I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me? 13 When
I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaints; 14 Then
thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions: 15 So
that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life. 16 I loathe
it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity. 17 What
is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine
heart upon him? 18 And
that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment? 19 How
long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down
my spittle? 20 I have
sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou
set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself? 21 And
why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for
now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but
I shall not be.
