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Job 7 Good News Translation (GNT)

Human life is like forced army service,
    like a life of hard manual labor,
    like a slave longing for cool shade;
    like a worker waiting to be paid.
Month after month I have nothing to live for;
    night after night brings me grief.
When I lie down to sleep, the hours drag;
    I toss all night and long for dawn.
My body is full of worms;
    it is covered with scabs;
    pus runs out of my sores.
My days pass by without hope,
    pass faster than a weaver's shuttle.[a]

Remember, O God, my life is only a breath;
    my happiness has already ended.
You see me now, but never again.
    If you look for me, I'll be gone.
9-10 Like a cloud that fades and is gone,
    we humans die and never return;
    we are forgotten by all who knew us.
11 No! I can't be quiet!
    I am angry and bitter.
    I have to speak.

12 Why do you keep me under guard?
    Do you think I am a sea monster?[b]
13 I lie down and try to rest;
    I look for relief from my pain.
14 But you—you terrify me with dreams;
    you send me visions and nightmares
15     until I would rather be strangled
    than live in this miserable body.
16 I give up; I am tired of living.
Leave me alone. My life makes no sense.

17 Why are people so important to you?
    Why pay attention to what they do?
18 You inspect them every morning
    and test them every minute.
19 Won't you look away long enough
    for me to swallow my spit?
20 Are you harmed by my sin, you jailer?
    Why use me for your target practice?
    Am I so great a burden to you?
21 Can't you ever forgive my sin?
    Can't you pardon the wrong I do?
Soon I will be in my grave,
    and I'll be gone when you look for me.

Footnotes:

  1. Job 7:6 A small device in the loom which carries threads back and forth rapidly in weaving cloth.
  2. Job 7:12 A reference to ancient stories in which sea monsters had to be guarded so that they would not escape and do damage.
Good News Translation (GNT)

Copyright © 1992 by American Bible Society

Job 7 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

Job: My Suffering Is without End

“Do not human beings have a hard service on earth,
    and are not their days like the days of a laborer?
Like a slave who longs for the shadow,
    and like laborers who look for their wages,
so I am allotted months of emptiness,
    and nights of misery are apportioned to me.
When I lie down I say, ‘When shall I rise?’
    But the night is long,
    and I am full of tossing until dawn.
My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt;
    my skin hardens, then breaks out again.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
    and come to their end without hope.[a]

“Remember that my life is a breath;
    my eye will never again see good.
The eye that beholds me will see me no more;
    while your eyes are upon me, I shall be gone.
As the cloud fades and vanishes,
    so those who go down to Sheol do not come up;
10 they return no more to their houses,
    nor do their places know them any more.

11 “Therefore I will not restrain my mouth;
    I will speak in the anguish of my spirit;
    I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the Sea, or the Dragon,
    that you set a guard over me?
13 When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me,
    my couch will ease my complaint,’
14 then you scare me with dreams
    and terrify me with visions,
15 so that I would choose strangling
    and death rather than this body.
16 I loathe my life; I would not live forever.
    Let me alone, for my days are a breath.
17 What are human beings, that you make so much of them,
    that you set your mind on them,
18 visit them every morning,
    test them every moment?
19 Will you not look away from me for a while,
    let me alone until I swallow my spittle?
20 If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity?
    Why have you made me your target?
    Why have I become a burden to you?
21 Why do you not pardon my transgression
    and take away my iniquity?
For now I shall lie in the earth;
    you will seek me, but I shall not be.”

Footnotes:

  1. Job 7:6 Or as the thread runs out
New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Job 7 Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition (DRA)

The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.

As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;

So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.

If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.

My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together.

My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.

Remember that my life is but wind, and my eyes shall not return to see good things.

Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.

As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up.

10 Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

11 Wherefore I will not spare my month, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.

12 Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison?

13 If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch:

14 Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions.

15 So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.

16 I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing.

17 What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him?

18 Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly.

19 How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle?

20 I have sinned: what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men? why hast thou set me opposite to thee, and I am become burdensome to myself?

21 Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away my iniquity? Behold now I shall sleep in the dust: and if thou seek me in the morning, I shall not be.

Job 7 The Message (MSG)

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!

7-10 “God, don’t forget that I’m only a puff of air!
    These eyes have had their last look at goodness.
And your eyes have seen the last of me;
    even while you’re looking, there’ll be nothing left to look at.
When a cloud evaporates, it’s gone for good;
    those who go to the grave never come back.
They don’t return to visit their families;
    never again will friends drop in for coffee.

11-16 “And so I’m not keeping one bit of this quiet,
    I’m laying it all out on the table;
    my complaining to high heaven is bitter, but honest.
Are you going to put a muzzle on me,
    the way you quiet the sea and still the storm?
If I say, ‘I’m going to bed, then I’ll feel better.
    A little nap will lift my spirits,’
You come and so scare me with nightmares
    and frighten me with ghosts
That I’d rather strangle in the bedclothes
    than face this kind of life any longer.
I hate this life! Who needs any more of this?
    Let me alone! There’s nothing to my life—it’s nothing
        but smoke.

17-21 “What are mortals anyway, that you bother with them,
    that you even give them the time of day?
That you check up on them every morning,
    looking in on them to see how they’re doing?
Let up on me, will you?
    Can’t you even let me spit in peace?
Even suppose I’d sinned—how would that hurt you?
    You’re responsible for every human being.
Don’t you have better things to do than pick on me?
    Why make a federal case out of me?
Why don’t you just forgive my sins
    and start me off with a clean slate?
The way things are going, I’ll soon be dead.
    You’ll look high and low, but I won’t be around.”

The Message (MSG)

Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson

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