Job 7:6–10

My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle

and come to their end without hope.

“Remember that my life is a breath;

my eye will never again see good.

The eye of him who sees me will behold me no more;

while your eyes are on me, I shall be gone.

As the cloud fades and vanishes,

so he who goes down to Sheol does not come up;

he returns no more to his house,

nor does his place know him anymore.

“My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,

and they come to an end without hope.

Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath;

my eyes will never see happiness again.

The eye that now sees me will see me no longer;

you will look for me, but I will be no more.

As a cloud vanishes and is gone,

so one who goes down to the grave does not return.

He will never come to his house again;

his place will know him no more.

My days pass more swiftly than a weaver’s shuttle;

they come to an end without hope.

Remember that my life is but a breath.

My eye will never again see anything good.

The eye of anyone who looks on me

will no longer see me.

Your eyes will look for me, but I will be gone.

As a cloud fades away and vanishes,

so the one who goes down to Sheol will never rise again.

He will never return to his house;

his hometown will no longer remember him.

“My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle.

They end without hope.

O God, remember that my life is but a breath,

and I will never again feel happiness.

You see me now, but not for long.

You will look for me, but I will be gone.

Just as a cloud dissipates and vanishes,

those who die will not come back.

They are gone forever from their home—

never to be seen again.

“My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,

and they come to an end without hope.

Remember that my life is a breath;

my eye will not return to see good.

The eye of the one seeing me will not see me;

your eyes are upon me, but I will be gone.

A cloud vanishes, and it goes away,

so he who goes down to Sheol will not come up.

He does not return again to his house,

and his place does not recognize him again.

My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,

And are spent without hope.

O remember that my life is wind:

Mine eye shall no more see good.

The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more:

Thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.

As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away:

So he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.

He shall return no more to his house,

Neither shall his place know him any more.