Study Desk

Is there not a warfare to a mortal, upon earth? And, as the days of a hireling, are not his days?

As, a bondman, panteth for the shadow, and as, a hireling, longeth for his wage,

So, have I been made to inherit months of calamity, and, nights of weariness, have been appointed me.

As soon as I lie down, I say, When shall I arise? yet he lengtheneth out the evening, and I am wearied with tossings until the breeze of twilight.

My flesh is clothed with worms and a coating of dust, My skin, hath hardened, and then run afresh: