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, though I entreated for the children's sake of my own body.

What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is my end, that I should prolong my life?

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 fail before me, and the souls which I have made.

If I wait, the grave is my house: I have made my bed in the darkness.

For my soul is full of troubles: and my life draweth nigh to the grave.

I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave: I am deprived of the residue of my years.