Job 7:6
My days pass more swiftly than a weaver's shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
My days pass more swiftly than a weaver's shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days{H3117} are swifter{H7043} than a weaver's shuttle,{H708} And are spent{H3615} without{H657} hope.{H8615}
My days{H3117} are swifter{H7043}{(H8804)} than a weaver's shuttle{H708}, and are spent{H3615}{(H8799)} without{H657} hope{H8615}.
my dayes passe ouer more spedely, the a weeuer can weeue out his webbe, and are gone, or I am awarre.
My dayes are swifter then a weauers shittle, and they are spent without hope.
My dayes passe ouer more spedyly then a weauers shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle and they come to an end without hope.
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
7 Remember that my life is but a breath; my eyes will never see good again.
8 The eye that now sees me will see me no longer; you will look for me, but I will be no more.
25 My days are swifter than a runner; they flee away and do not see any good.
26 They pass by like reed boats, like an eagle swooping down on its prey.
3 so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
4 When I lie down, I think, 'When will I get up?' But the night drags on, and I am filled with tossing till dawn.
5 My body is clothed with worms and scabs; my skin cracks and festers.
10 I said, "In the prime of my life I must go through the gates of Sheol; I am deprived of the rest of my years."
11 I said, "I will not see the LORD, the LORD, in the land of the living; I will no longer look on humanity or be with those who dwell in the world of the dead."
12 My dwelling is pulled up and taken from me, like a shepherd's tent. I have rolled up my life like a weaver rolls a cloth; He cuts me off from the loom. Day and night You bring me to an end.
15 then where is my hope? And who can see any hope for me?
11 My days have passed, my plans are broken off, and the desires of my heart are gone.
11 What is my strength, that I should hope? What is my end, that I should prolong my life?
11 Because of your wrath and indignation, for you have lifted me up and thrown me aside.
16 I despise my life; I would not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.
20 Are not my days few? Leave me alone, so I may have a moment of relief.
1 My spirit is broken, my days have faded away, and the grave is ready for me.
18 So I say, 'My strength is gone, and so is my hope from the LORD.'
47 How long, LORD? Will you hide yourself forever? Will your wrath keep burning like fire?
10 Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am in distress. My eyes grow weak with sorrow, as do my soul and my body.
7 My eyes have grown dim from grief, and all my limbs are like a shadow.
5 LORD, let me know my end and the number of my days, so I may understand how fleeting my life is.
10 He breaks me down on every side, and I am gone; He uproots my hope like a tree.
4 Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
1 Man, born of a woman, is short-lived and full of trouble.
2 He springs up like a flower and withers away; he flees like a shadow and does not endure.
1 Isn't human life on earth like hard labor and their days like those of a hired worker?
3 Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress; incline your ear to me; on the day I call, answer me quickly.
14 Their confidence is easily cut off, and their trust is like a spider's web.
9 All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a sigh.
7 Surely now, God has worn me out; you have devastated my entire household.
23 when peoples and kingdoms gather together to serve the LORD.
7 Surely, man goes about as a shadow; surely, they make an uproar over nothing; he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will gather it.
15 Terrors are turned upon me; they pursue my dignity like the wind, and my salvation has vanished like a cloud.
16 And now my soul is poured out within me; days of suffering seize hold of me.
4 My spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart is appalled inside me.
13 If I hope for Sheol as my home, and I make my bed in darkness,
13 Indeed, there is no help in me, and ability has been driven from me.
23 I am fading away like a shadow at sunset; I am shaken off like a locust.
28 So man wastes away like something rotten, like a garment eaten by moths.
15 I have sewn sackcloth over my skin and buried my strength in the dust.
16 My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death.
20 From morning to evening they are broken to pieces; without anyone noticing, they perish forever.
9 for we were only born yesterday and know nothing, and our days on earth are but a shadow.
3 For now, it is heavier than the sands of the seas; that is why my words are impulsive.
4 He has worn away my flesh and my skin; He has broken my bones.
20 My tent is destroyed, and all its ropes are broken. My children have left me—they are no more. There is no one to pitch my tent or set up my curtains.
7 I am worn out from my groaning; all night long I drench my bed with tears and flood my couch with weeping.
6 He has made me dwell in dark places, like those long dead.
1 Woe is me, for I am like those gathering summer fruit, like those gleaning after the harvest; there is no cluster to eat, no early fig that my soul desires.