Job Laments the Finality of Death

“Man, who is born of woman,

is short of days and full of trouble.

Like a flower, he comes forth, then withers away;

like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure.

Do You open Your eyes to one like this?

Will You bring him into judgment before You?

Who can bring out clean from unclean?

No one!

Since his days are determined

and the number of his months is with You,

and since You have set limits

that he cannot exceed,

look away from him and let him rest,

so he can enjoy his day as a hired hand.

For there is hope for a tree:

If it is cut down, it will sprout again,

and its tender shoots will not fail.

If its roots grow old in the ground

and its stump dies in the soil,

at the scent of water it will bud

and put forth twigs like a sapling.

But a man dies and is laid low;

he breathes his last, and where is he?

As water disappears from the sea

and a river becomes parched and dry,

so a man lies down

and does not rise.

Until the heavens are no more,

he will not be awakened or roused from sleep.

If only You would hide me in Sheol

and conceal me until Your anger has passed!

If only You would appoint a time for me

and then remember me!

When a man dies, will he live again?

All the days of my hard service I will wait,

until my renewal comes.

You will call, and I will answer;

You will desire the work of Your hands.

For then You would count my steps,

but would not keep track of my sin.

My transgression would be sealed in a bag,

and You would cover over my iniquity.

But as a mountain erodes and crumbles

and a rock is dislodged from its place,

as water wears away the stones

and torrents wash away the soil,

so You destroy a man’s hope.

You forever overpower him, and he passes on;

You change his countenance and send him away.

If his sons receive honor, he does not know it;

if they are brought low, he is unaware.

He feels only the pain of his own body

and mourns only for himself.”