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20 You always overpower them, and they pass from the scene.
    You disfigure them in death and send them away.

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But now their faces are blacker than soot.
    No one recognizes them in the streets.
Their skin sticks to their bones;
    it is as dry and hard as wood.

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None of us can hold back our spirit from departing. None of us has the power to prevent the day of our death. There is no escaping that obligation, that dark battle. And in the face of death, wickedness will certainly not rescue the wicked.

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14 Can the dead live again?
    If so, this would give me hope through all my years of struggle,
    and I would eagerly await the release of death.

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12 When they saw Job from a distance, they scarcely recognized him. Wailing loudly, they tore their robes and threw dust into the air over their heads to show their grief.

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