JobChapter 14

Man, born of woman, is short of days and full of trouble.
He comes up like a flower and withers; he flees like a shadow and does not last.
And on such a one you fix your eye? Do you bring me into judgment with you?
Who can bring what is clean out of what is unclean? No one.
Since his days are determined, the number of his months is with you; you have set his limit, and he cannot pass beyond it.
Look away from him and let him be, until he has served out his day like a hired hand.
For a tree there is hope: if it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its shoots will not fail.
Though its root grows old in the ground and its stump dies in the dust,
at the scent of water it will bud and put out branches like a young plant.
But a man dies and is laid low; a mortal breathes his last, and where is he?
As water disappears from the sea, and a river runs dry and is parched,
so a man lies down and does not rise. Till the heavens are no more he will not awake, nor be roused from his sleep.
If only you would hide me in the grave, conceal me until your anger passes, set me a fixed time and then remember me!
If a man dies, will he live again? All the days of my hard service I would wait, until my relief should come.
You would call, and I would answer you; you would long for the work of your hands.
For then you would count my steps, but not keep watch over my sin.
My offense would be sealed up in a bag, and you would cover over my guilt.
But as a mountain crumbles away and a rock is moved from its place,
as water wears away the stones and torrents wash away the soil of the earth, so you destroy the hope of mortals.
You overpower him once and for all, and he is gone; you change his face and send him away.
If his children are honored, he does not know it; if they are brought low, he never perceives it.
He feels only the pain of his own flesh; his own soul mourns within him.