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“Is not all human life a struggle?
    Our lives are like that of a hired hand,
like a worker who longs for the shade,
    like a servant waiting to be paid.
I, too, have been assigned months of futility,
    long and weary nights of misery.
Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’
    But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.

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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)

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Job Cries Out to God

“My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle.
    They end without hope.
O God, remember that my life is but a breath,
    and I will never again feel happiness.

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“My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,(A)
    and they come to an end without hope.(B)
Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath;(C)
    my eyes will never see happiness again.(D)

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