Job 17:1

Treasury of Scripture Knowledge

My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.

My breath is strange to my wife, And my supplication to the children of mine own mother.

What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is mine end, that I should be patient?

And after this Job lived a hundred and forty years, and saw his sons, and his sons'sons, even four generations.

For I will not contend for ever, neither will I be always wroth; for the spirit would faint before me, and the souls that I have made.

If I look for Sheol as my house; If I have spread my couch in the darkness;

For my soul is full of troubles, And my life draweth nigh unto Sheol.

I said, In the noontide of my days I shall go into the gates of Sheol: I am deprived of the residue of my years.