“Do not mortals have hard service(A) on earth?(B)
    Are not their days like those of hired laborers?(C)

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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’s Life Seems Futile

[a]Is a person not (A)forced to labor on earth,
And are his days not like the days of (B)a hired worker?

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Footnotes

  1. Job 7:1 Lit Has not man compulsory labor

Job’s Life Seems Futile

“Is not man forced to labor on earth?
And are not his days like the days of a hired man?

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There’s Nothing to My Life

1-6 “Human life is a struggle, isn’t it?
    It’s a life sentence to hard labor.
Like field hands longing for quitting time
    and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday,
I’m given a life that meanders and goes nowhere—
    months of aimlessness, nights of misery!
I go to bed and think, ‘How long till I can get up?’
    I toss and turn as the night drags on—and I’m fed up!
I’m covered with maggots and scabs.
    My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus.
My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles,
    and then the yarn runs out—an unfinished life!

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“Do not mortals have hard service(A) on earth?(B)
    Are not their days like those of hired laborers?(C)
Like a slave longing for the evening shadows,(D)
    or a hired laborer waiting to be paid,(E)
so I have been allotted months of futility,
    and nights of misery have been assigned to me.(F)
When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’(G)
    The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.(H)
My body is clothed with worms(I) and scabs,
    my skin is broken and festering.(J)

“My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,(K)
    and they come to an end without hope.(L)

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Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?

As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:

So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.

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.

My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.

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Job’s Life Seems Futile

[a]Is a person not (A)forced to labor on earth,
And are his days not like the days of (B)a hired worker?
As a slave pants for the shade,
And as a hired worker who eagerly waits for his wages,
So I am allotted worthless months,
And (C)nights of trouble are apportioned to me.
When I (D)lie down, I say,
‘When shall I arise?’
But the night continues,
And I am continually tossing until dawn.
My (E)flesh is clothed with maggots and a crust of dirt,
My skin hardens and [b]oozes.
My days are (F)swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
And they come to an end (G)without hope.

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Footnotes

  1. Job 7:1 Lit Has not man compulsory labor
  2. Job 7:5 Lit melts

Job’s Life Seems Futile

“Is not man forced to labor on earth?
And are not his days like the days of a hired man?

“As a slave earnestly longs for the shade,
And as a hired man eagerly awaits his wages,

So am I allotted months of futility and suffering,
And [long] nights of trouble and misery are appointed to me.

“When I lie down I say,
‘When shall I arise [and the night be gone]?’
But the night continues,
And I am continually tossing until the dawning of day.

“My body is clothed with worms and a crust of dust;
My skin is hardened [and broken and loathsome], and [breaks out and] runs.

“My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
And are spent without hope.

Read full chapter

There’s Nothing to My Life

1-6 “Human life is a struggle, isn’t it?
    It’s a life sentence to hard labor.
Like field hands longing for quitting time
    and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday,
I’m given a life that meanders and goes nowhere—
    months of aimlessness, nights of misery!
I go to bed and think, ‘How long till I can get up?’
    I toss and turn as the night drags on—and I’m fed up!
I’m covered with maggots and scabs.
    My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus.
My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles,
    and then the yarn runs out—an unfinished life!

Read full chapter