Hath not man a warfare on earth,{HR}And are not his days as the days of a hireling?
As the slave panting after the shade,{HR}And as the hireling longing for his wages.
So I am made to inherit months of wretchedness,{HR}And nights of distress are appointed to me.
When I lie down, then I say,{HR}When shall I arise, and the evening be gone?{HR}And I am weary of restlessness till the dawn.
My flesh is clothed with worms and crusts of earth,{HR}My skin healeth, and is again melted;
My days pass more swiftly than a shuttle,{HR}And come to an end without hope.
Remember that my days are a breath,{HR}Mine eye will not return to see good.
The eye of him that seeth me shall not see me;{HR}Thine eyes [look] toward me: I am no more.
The cloud consumeth, and is gone;{HR}So he that goeth down to Sheol cometh not up,
He returneth no more to his house;{HR}His place knoweth him not again.
I also will not restrain my mouth,{HR}I will speak in the anguish of my spirit,{HR}I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
Am I a sea, or a monster,{HR}That thou settest guard over me?
When I say, My bed shall comfort me,{HR}My couch shall ease my complaint,
Then thou shakest me with dreams,{HR}And makest me tremble through visions of the night,
So that my soul chooseth strangling,{HR}Death rather than these bones: I would not live on;
I loathe it: let me alone; my days are vanity.
What is man that thou magnifiest him,{HR}And that thou settest thy mind on him,
And that thou visitest him every morning,{HR}And every moment triest him?
How long dost not thou look away from me,{HR}Nor lettest me alone till I swallow my spittle?
I have sinned; what could I do to thee?{HR}Watcher of men, why makest thou me thy mark,{HR}So that I am become a burden to myself?
And why dost not thou pardon my transgression,{HR}And put away my iniquity?{HR}For now shall I lie in the dust,{HR}And, if thou seekest after me, I am no more.