Job Continues: Life Seems Futile

1Is ther not an appoynted time to man vpon earth? Are not his dayes also like the dayes of an hired seruaunt?

2For like as a bonde seruaunt desireth the shadowe, and as an hyreling woulde fayne haue the rewarde of his worke:

3Euen so haue I laboured whole monethes long in vayne, and many a carefull night haue I tolde.

4When I layde me downe to sleepe, I sayde, O when shall I arise? and measuring the euening, I am euen full with tossing to and fro vnto the dawning of the day.

5My fleshe is clothed with wormes and dust of the earth: my skinne is withered and become horrible.

6My dayes passe ouer more spedyly then a weauers shuttle, and are spent without hope.

7O remember that my lyfe is but a winde, and that myne eye shall no more see pleasures:

8Yea and the eye that hath seene me, shal see me no more: for yer thou fasten thyne eye vpon me, I come to naught.

9The cloude is consumed and vanished away: so he that goeth downe to the graue shall come no more vp,

10Nor turne againe into his house, neither shall his place knowe him any more.

11Therfore I wil not spare my mouth, but I will speake in the trouble of my spirite, and muse in the bitternesse of my mynde.

12Am I a sea or a whale fish, that thou kepest me so in prison?

13When I say, My bed shal comfort me, I shall haue some refreshing by talking to my selfe vpon my couch:

14Then fearest thou me with dreames, & makest me so afrayde through visions,

15That my soule wisheth rather to perishe and die, then my bones to remayne.

16I can see no remedy, I shall liue no more: O spare me then, for my dayes are but vanitie.

17What is man that thou doest magnifie him? and that thou settest thy heart vpon him?

18Thou visitest him early and euery day, euery moment doest thou trie him.

19Why goest thou not fro me, nor lettest me alone, so long till I may swalowe downe my spyttle?

20I haue offended, what shall I do vnto the, O thou preseruer of men? Why hast thou set me as a marke against thee, so that I am a burden to my selfe?

21Why doest thou not pardon my trespasses, and take away myne iniquitie? Behold, nowe must I sleepe in the dust, and if thou sekest me to morowe in the morning, I shal not be.