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Job: My Suffering Is without End

7‘Do not human beings have a hard service on earth,
   and are not their days like the days of a labourer?
² Like a slave who longs for the shadow,
   and like labourers who look for their wages,
³ so I am allotted months of emptiness,
   and nights of misery are apportioned to me.
⁴ When I lie down I say, “When shall I rise?”
   But the night is long,
   and I am full of tossing until dawn.
⁵ My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt;
   my skin hardens, then breaks out again.
⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
   and come to their end without hope.^*

⁷ ‘Remember that my life is a breath;
   my eye will never again see good.