Job 17:1
My spirit is broken, my days are ended, the last resting-place is ready for me.
My spirit is broken, my days are ended, the last resting-place is ready for me.
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3 (For all my breath is still in me, and the spirit of God is my life;)
9 Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble; my eyes are wasted with grief, I am wasted in soul and body.
10 My life goes on in sorrow, and my years in weeping; my strength is almost gone because of my sin, and my bones are wasted away.
11 My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the desires of my heart.
3 My days are wasted like smoke, and my bones are burned up as in a fire.
15 So that a hard death seems better to my soul than my pains.
16 I have no desire for life, I would not be living for ever! Keep away from me, for my days are as a breath.
13 If I am waiting for the underworld as my house, if I have made my bed in the dark;
14 If I say to the earth, You are my father; and to the worm, My mother and my sister;
15 Where then is my hope? and who will see my desire?
16 Will they go down with me into the underworld? Will we go down together into the dust?
10 I said, In the quiet of my days I am going down into the underworld: the rest of my years are being taken away from me.
20 Are not the days of my life small in number? Let your eyes be turned away from me, so that I may have a little pleasure,
3 The evil man has gone after my soul; my life is crushed down to the earth: he has put me in the dark, like those who have long been dead.
4 Because of this my spirit is overcome; and my heart is full of fear.
18 He would not let me take my breath, but I would be full of bitter grief.
2 Truly, those who make sport of me are round about me, and my eyes become dark because of their bitter laughing.
22 And his soul comes near to the underworld, and his life to the angels of death.
15 My throat is dry like a broken vessel; my tongue is fixed to the roof of my mouth, and the dust of death is on my lips.
13 If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!
3 For my soul is full of evils, and my life has come near to the underworld.
4 I am numbered among those who go down into the earth; I have become like a man for whom there is no help:
16 But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
11 My days are like a shade which is stretched out; I am dry like the grass.
16 My face is red with weeping, and my eyes are becoming dark;
1 My soul is tired of life; I will let my sad thoughts go free in words; my soul will make a bitter outcry.
5 My flesh is covered with worms and dust; my skin gets hard and then is cracked again.
6 My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
7 O, keep in mind that my life is wind: my eye will never again see good.
17 My feet are near to falling, and my sorrow is ever before me.
10 My heart goes out in pain, my strength is wasting away; as for the light of my eyes, it is gone from me.
19 Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
18 Why then did you make me come out of my mother's body? It would have been better for me to have taken my last breath, and for no eye to have seen me,
7 My eyes have become dark because of my pain, and all my body is wasted to a shade.
11 So I will not keep my mouth shut; I will let the words come from it in the pain of my spirit, my soul will make a bitter outcry.
47 See how short my time is; why have you made all men for no purpose?
4 My heart is deeply wounded, and the fear of death has come on me.
12 My resting-place is pulled up and taken away from me like a herdsman's tent: my life is rolled up like a linen-worker's thread; I am cut off from the cloth on the frame: from day even to night you give me up to pain.
17 My breath is strange to my wife, and I am disgusting to the offspring of my mother's body.
7 Be quick in answering me, O Lord, for the strength of my spirit is gone: let me see your face, so that I may not be like those who go down into the underworld.
4 Lord, give me knowledge of my end, and of the measure of my days, so that I may see how feeble I am.
19 Is any one able to take up the argument against me? If so, I would keep quiet and give up my breath.
28 Though a man comes to nothing like a bit of dead wood, or like a robe which has become food for the worm.
18 And I said, My strength is cut off, and my hope from the Lord.
10 But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?
4 Man's breath goes out, he is turned back again to dust; in that day all his purposes come to an end.
6 He has kept me in dark places, like those who have been long dead.
24 In place of my food I have grief, and cries of sorrow come from me like water.
20 See, O Lord, for I am in trouble; the inmost parts of my body are deeply moved; my heart is turned in me; for I have been uncontrolled: outside the children are put to the sword, and in the house there is death.
7 My eyes are wasting away with trouble; they are becoming old because of all those who are against me.