Chapter 7

¹The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling. ²As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work; ³So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights. ⁴If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness. ⁵My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together. ⁶My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope. ⁷Remember that my life is but wind, and my eyes shall not return to see good things. ⁸Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more. ⁹As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. ¹⁰Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more. ¹¹Wherefore I will not spare my month, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul. ¹²Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison? ¹³If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch: ¹⁴Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions. ¹⁵So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death. ¹⁶I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing. ¹⁷What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him? ¹⁸Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly. ¹⁹How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle? ²⁰I have sinned: what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men? why hast thou set me opposite to thee, and I am become burdensome to myself? ²¹Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away my iniquity? Behold now I shall sleep in the dust: and if thou seek me in the morning, I shall not be.