Isn’t mankind consigned to forced labor(A) on earth?
Are not his days like those of a hired hand?
Like a slave he longs for shade;
like a hired man he waits for his pay.
So I have been made to inherit months of futility,
and troubled nights have been assigned to me.(B)
When I lie down I think:
When will I get up?
But the evening drags on endlessly,
and I toss and turn until dawn.
My flesh is clothed with maggots and encrusted with dirt.[a]
My skin forms scabs[b] and then oozes.(C)

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Footnotes

  1. Job 7:5 Or and dirty scabs
  2. Job 7:5 Lit skin hardens

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