71 "Do not mortals have hard service on earth? Are not their days like those of hired laborers? 2 Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired laborer waiting to be paid, 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, 'How long before I get up?' The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. 5 My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering. 6 "My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
71 Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling? 2 As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work: 3 So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me. 4 When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night
71 "Has not man a hard service on earth, and are not his days like the days of a hired hand? 2 Like a slave who longs for the shadow, and like a hired hand who looks for his 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 arise?' But the night is long, and I am full of tossing till the dawn. 5 My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt; my skin hardens, then breaks out afresh. 6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle and come to their end without hope.
71 "Human life is a struggle, isn't it? It's a life sentence to hard labor. 2 Like field hands longing for quitting time and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday, 3 I'm given a life that meanders and goes nowhere - months of aimlessness, nights of misery! 4 I go to bed and think, 'How long till I can get up?' I toss and turn as the night drags on - and I'm fed up! 5 I'm covered with maggots and scabs. My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus. 6 My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles, and then the yarn runs out - an unfinished life!
71 "Is there not a time of hard service for man on earth? Are not his days also like the days of a hired man? 2 Like a servant who earnestly desires the shade, And like a hired man who eagerly looks for his wages, 3 So I have been allotted months of futility, And wearisome nights have been appointed to me. 4 When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I arise, And the night be ended?' For I have had my fill of tossing till dawn. 5 My flesh is caked with worms and dust, My skin is cracked and breaks out afresh. 6 "My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
71 "Is not all human life a struggle? Our lives are like that of a hired hand, 2 like a worker who longs for the shade, like a servant waiting to be paid. 3 I, too, have been assigned months of futility, long and weary nights of misery. 4 Lying in bed, I think, 'When will it be morning?' But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn. 5 My body is covered with maggots and scabs. My skin breaks open, oozing with pus. 6 "My days fly faster than a weaver's shuttle. They end without hope.
Matthew Henry's Commentary on Job 7:1-6
Commentary on Job 7:1-6
(Read Job 7:1-6)
Job here excuses what he could not justify, his desire of death. Observe man's present place: he is upon earth. He is yet on earth, not in hell. Is there not a time appointed for his abode here? yes, certainly, and the appointment is made by Him who made us and sent us here. During that, man's life is a warfare, and as day-labourers, who have the work of the day to do in its day, and must make up their account at night. Job had as much reason, he thought, to wish for death, as a poor servant that is tired with his work, has to wish for the shadows of the evening, when he shall go to rest. The sleep of the labouring man is sweet; nor can any rich man take so much satisfaction in his wealth, as the hireling in his day's wages. The comparison is plain; hear his complaint: His days were useless, and had long been so; but when we are not able to work for God, if we sit still quietly for him, we shall be accepted. His nights were restless. Whatever is grievous, it is good to see it appointed for us, and as designed for some holy end. When we have comfortable nights, we must see them also appointed to us, and be thankful for them. His body was noisome. See what vile bodies we have. His life was hastening apace. While we are living, every day, like the shuttle, leaves a thread behind: many weave the spider's web, which will fail, 14. But if, while we live, we live unto the Lord, in works of faith and labours of love, we shall have the benefit, for every man shall reap as he sowed, and wear as he wove.