Job 17:1
My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, & the graue is readie for me.
My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, & the graue is readie for me.
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3Yet so long as my breath is in me, and the Spirit of God in my nostrels,
9Haue mercie vpon mee, O Lorde: for I am in trouble: mine eye, my soule and my bellie are consumed with griefe.
10For my life is wasted with heauinesse, and my yeeres with mourning: my strength faileth for my paine, and my bones are consumed.
11My dayes are past, mine enterprises are broken, and the thoughts of mine heart
3For my dayes are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burnt like an herthe.
15Therefore my soule chuseth rather to be strangled and to die, then to be in my bones.
16I abhorre it, I shall not liue alway: spare me then, for my dayes are but vanitie.
13Though I hope, yet the graue shall bee mine house, and I shal make my bed in the darke.
14I shall say to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worme, Thou art my mother and my sister.
15Where is then now mine hope? or who shal consider the thing, that I hoped for?
16They shal goe downe into the bottome of the pit: surely it shall lye together in the dust.
10I saide in the cutting off of my dayes, I shall goe to the gates of the graue: I am depriued of the residue of my yeeres.
20Are not my dayes fewe? let him cease, and leaue off from me, that I may take a litle comfort,
3For the enemie hath persecuted my soule: he hath smitten my life downe to the earth: he hath layde me in the darkenes, as they that haue bene dead long agoe:
4And my spirit was in perplexitie in me, and mine heart within me was amased.
18He wil not suffer me to take my breath, but filleth me with bitternesse.
2There are none but mockers with mee, & mine eye continueth in their bitternesse.
22So his soule draweth to the graue, and his life to the buriers.
15My strength is dryed vp like a potsheard, and my tongue cleaueth to my iawes, and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
13Oh that thou wouldest hide me in the graue, and keepe me secret, vntill thy wrath were past, and wouldest giue me terme, and remember me.
3For my soule is filled with euils, and my life draweth neere to the graue.
4I am counted among them that go downe vnto the pit, and am as a man without strength:
16Therefore my soule is nowe powred out vpon me, and the dayes of affliction haue taken holde on me.
11My dayes are like a shadowe that fadeth, and I am withered like grasse.
16My face is withered with weeping, and the shadow of death is vpon mine eyes,
1My soule is cut off though I liue: I wil leaue my complaint vpon my selfe, & wil speake in the bitternesse of my soule.
5My flesh is clothed with wormes and filthinesse of the dust: my skinne is rent, and become horrible.
6My dayes are swifter then a weauers shittle, and they are spent without hope.
7Remember that my life is but a wind, and that mine eye shall not returne to see pleasure.
17Surely I am ready to halte, and my sorow is euer before me.
10Mine heart panteth: my strength faileth me, and the light of mine eyes, euen they are not mine owne.
19He hath cast me into the myre, and I am become like ashes and dust.
18Wherfore then hast thou brought me out of the wombe? Oh that I had perished, and that none eye had seene me!
7Mine eye therefore is dimme for griefe, and all my strength is like a shadowe.
11Therefore I will not spare my mouth, but will speake in the trouble of my spirite, and muse in the bitternesse of my minde.
47Remember of what time I am: wherefore shouldest thou create in vaine all the children of men?
4Mine heart trembleth within mee, and the terrours of death are fallen vpon me.
12Mine habitation is departed, and is remoued from me, like a shepheards tent: I haue cut off like a weauer my life: he will cut me off from the height: from day to night, thou wilt make an ende of me.
17My breath was strange vnto my wife, though I prayed her for the childrens sake of mine owne body.
7Heare me speedily, O Lorde, for my spirit fayleth: hide not thy face from me, els I shall be like vnto them that go downe into the pit.
4Lord, let me know mine ende, and the measure of my dayes, what it is: let mee knowe howe long I haue to liue.
19Who is he, that will pleade with me? for if I nowe holde my tongue, I dye.
28Such one consumeth like a rotten thing, and as a garment that is motheaten.
18And I saide, My strength & mine hope is perished from the Lord,
10But man is sicke, and dyeth, and man perisheth, and where is he?
4His breath departeth, and he returneth to his earth: then his thoughtes perish.
6He hath set me in darke places, as they that be dead for euer.
24For my sighing commeth before I eate, and my roarings are powred out like the water.
20Behold, O Lorde, howe I am troubled: my bowels swell: mine heart is turned within me, for I am ful of heauinesse: the sword spoyleth abroad, as death doeth at home.
7Mine eye is dimmed for despight, and sunke in because of all mine enemies.