Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?
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Job 7
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As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:
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So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
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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.
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My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
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My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
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O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.
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The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.
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As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.
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He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
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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.
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Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?
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When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaints;
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Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:
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So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.
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I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.
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What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?
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And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?
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How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
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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?
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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.
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