7 Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?

² As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:

³ So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.

⁴ When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.

⁵ My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.

⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.

⁷ O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.

⁸ The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.

⁹ As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.

¹⁰ He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

¹¹ Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.

¹² Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?

¹³ When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaints;

¹⁴ Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:

¹⁵ So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.

¹⁶ I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.

¹⁷ What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?

¹⁸ And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?

¹⁹ How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?

²⁰ I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?

²¹ And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.