Chapter 7. Is there not a time of hard service for Man on Earth Are not his days also like the days of a Hired Man Like a servant who earnestly desires the Shade And like a Hired Man Who eagerly looks For his wages So I have been allotted months of Futility and we're some nights have been Appointed to me When I lie down I say When shall I arise and the night be Ended For I have had my fill of tossing till Dawn My flesh is caked with worms and dust My skin is cracked and breaks out afresh My days are swifter than a Weaver's Shuttle and are spent without hope Oh remember that my life is a breath My eye will never again see good The eye of him who sees me will see me No more While your eyes are upon me I shall no Longer be As the cloud disappears and vanishes Away So he who goes down to the Grave does Not come up He shall never return to his house nor Shall his place know him anymore 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 Am I a sea or a sea serpent that you set A guard over me When I say my bed will comfort me my Couch will ease my complaint Then you scare me with dreams and Terrify me with visions so that my soul Chooses strangling and death rather than My body I loathe my life I would not live forever Let me alone for my days a butter breath What is man that you should exalt him That you should set your heart on him That you should visit him every morning And test him every moment How long Will you not look away from me and let Me alone till I swallow my saliva Have I sinned What have I done to you a watcher of men Why have you set me as your target so That I am a burden to myself Why then do you not pardon my Transgression and take away my iniquity For now I will lie down in the dust And you will seek me diligently But I will no longer be