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Chapter 7
Is
there
not
an
appointed
time
to
man
upon
earth?
are
not
his
days
also
like
the
days
of
an
hireling?
2
As
a
servant
earnestly
desireth
the
shadow,
and
as
an
hireling
looketh
for
the
reward
of
his
work:
3
So
am
I
made
to
possess
months
of
vanity,
and
wearisome
nights
are
appointed
to
me.
4
When
I
lie
down,
I
say,
When
shall
I
arise,
and
the
night
be
gone?
and
I
am
full
of
tossings
to
and
fro
unto
the
dawning
of
the
day.
5
My
flesh
is
clothed
with
worms
and
clods
of
dust;
my
skin
is
broken,
and
become
loathsome.
6
My
days
are
swifter
than
a
weaver’s
shuttle,
and
are
spent
without
hope.
7
O
remember
that
my
life
is
wind:
mine
eye
shall
no
more
see
good.
8
The
eye
of
him
that
hath
seen
me
shall
see
me
no
more:
thine
eyes
are
upon
me,
and
I
am
not.
9
As
the
cloud
is
consumed
and
vanisheth
away:
so
he
that
goeth
down
to
the
grave
shall
come
up
no
more.
10
He
shall
return
no
more
to
his
house,
neither
shall
his
place
know
him
any
more.
11
Therefore
I
will
not
refrain
my
mouth;
I
will
speak
in
the
anguish
of
my
spirit;
I
will
complain
in
the
bitterness
of
my
soul.
12
Am
I
a
sea,
or
a
whale,
that
thou
settest
a
watch
over
me?
13
When
I
say,
My
bed
shall
comfort
me,
my
couch
shall
ease
my
complaint;
14
Then
thou
scarest
me
with
dreams,
and
terrifiest
me
through
visions:
15
So
that
my
soul
chooseth
strangling,
and
death
rather
than
my
life.
16
I
loathe
it;
I
would
not
live
alway:
let
me
alone;
for
my
days
are
vanity.
17
What
is
man,
that
thou
shouldest
magnify
him?
and
that
thou
shouldest
set
thine
heart
upon
him?
18
And
that
thou
shouldest
visit
him
every
morning,
and
try
him
every
moment?
19
How
long
wilt
thou
not
depart
from
me,
nor
let
me
alone
till
I
swallow
down
my
spittle?
20
I
have
sinned;
what
shall
I
do
unto
thee,
O
thou
preserver
of
men?
why
hast
thou
set
me
as
a
mark
against
thee,
so
that
I
am
a
burden
to
myself?
21
And
why
dost
thou
not
pardon
my
transgression,
and
take
away
mine
iniquity?
for
now
shall
I
sleep
in
the
dust;
and
thou
shalt
seek
me
in
the
morning,
but
I
shall
not
be.
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