Job 10:20
Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
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21 Before I go, and return not, Unto a land of darkness and death-shade,
18 And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
19 As I had not been, I am, From the belly to the grave I am brought,
9 That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
10 And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.
11 What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?
22 When a few years do come, Then a path I return not do I go.
15 And my soul chooseth strangling, Death rather than my bones.
16 I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days `are' vanity.
13 Look from me, and I brighten up before I go and am not!
27 Though I say, `I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
1 My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.
13 O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
14 If a man dieth -- doth he revive? All days of my warfare I wait, till my change come.
1 My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
2 I say unto God, `Do not condemn me, Let me know why Thou dost strive `with' me.
11 My days have passed by, My devices have been broken off, The possessions of my heart!
10 `I -- I said in the cutting off of my days, I go in to the gates of Sheol, I have numbered the remnant of mine years.
13 Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
14 Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15 Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.
20 I have sinned, what do I to Thee, O watcher of man? Why hast Thou set me for a mark to Thee, And I am for a burden to myself -- and what?
21 Thou dost not take away my transgression, And cause to pass away mine iniquity, Because now, for dust I lie down: And Thou hast sought me -- and I am not!
17 For I have not been cut off before darkness, And before me He covered thick darkness.
19 Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
20 Only two things, O God, do with me: Then from Thy face I am not hidden.
4 I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?
12 My sojourning hath departed, And been removed from me as a shepherd's tent, I have drawn together, as a weaver, my life, By weakness it cutteth me off, From day unto night Thou dost end me.
18 My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
13 Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
6 My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
7 Remember Thou that my life `is' a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.
13 When I said, `My bed doth comfort me,' He taketh away in my talking my couch.
5 As the days of man `are' Thy days? Thy years as the days of a man?
13 If I wait -- Sheol `is' my house, In darkness I have spread out my couch.
23 He hath humbled in the way my power, He hath shortened my days.
24 I say, `My God, take me not up in the midst of my days,' Through all generations `are' Thine years.
11 Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
3 And now, O Jehovah, take, I pray Thee, my soul from me, for better `is' my death than my life.'
10 Turn aside from off me Thy stroke, From the striving of Thy hand I have been consumed.
4 `Cause me to know, O Jehovah, mine end, And the measure of my days -- what it `is',' I know how frail I `am'.
47 Remember, I pray Thee, what `is' life-time? Wherefore in vain hast Thou created All the sons of men?
6 If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
18 Why `is' this? from the womb I have come out, To see labour and sorrow, Yea, consumed in shame are my days!
15 And where `is' now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?
10 For my life hath been consumed in sorrow And my years in sighing. Feeble because of mine iniquity hath been my strength, And my bones have become old.
10 Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.
7 There the upright doth reason with Him, And I escape for ever from my judge.
2 Who doth make me as `in' months past, As `in' the days of God's preserving me?
15 -- What do I say? seeing He said to me, And He Himself hath wrought, I go softly all my years for the bitterness of my soul.