Job 6:11

Treasury of Scripture Knowledge

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

My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.

Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,

Will you break a leaf driven to and fro? and will you pursue the dry stubble?

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

Behold, you have made my days as a handbreadth; and my age is as nothing before you: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah.

You carry them away as with a flood; they are like a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which grows up.

He weakened my strength in the way; he shortened my days.

For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

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

And I said, My strength and my hope has perished from the LORD: