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Job 7:1-21 (BSB)
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"Is not man consigned to labor on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired hand? Like a slave he longs for shade; like a hireling he waits for his wages. So I am allotted months of futility, and nights of misery are appointed to me. When I lie down I think: 'When will I get up?' But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. My flesh is clothed with worms and encrusted with dirt; my skin is cracked and festering. My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle; they come to an end without hope. Remember that my life is but a breath. My eyes will never again see happiness. The eye tha