A reading from the book of Job.

Has not man a hard service on earth, and are not his days like the days of a hired hand,

like a slave who longs for the shadow, and like a hired hand who looks for his wages,

so I am allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery are apportioned to me.

When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise?

But the night is long, and I toss and turn till the dawn.

My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt.

My skin hardens, then breaks out afresh. My days are swifter than a weaver's

shuttle, and come to their end, without hope. Remember that my life is a breath. My eye will never

again see good. The eye of him who sees me will behold me no more. While your

eyes are on me, I shall be gone. As the cloud fades and vanishes, so he who goes down to

Sha'ol does not come up. He returns no more to his house, nor does his place know him anymore.

Therefore I will not restrain my mouth.

I will speak in the anguish of my spirit.

I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.

Am I the sea or a sea monster that you set a guard over me?

When I say, my bed will comfort me, my couch will ease my

complaint, then you scare me with dreams and terrify me with visions so that I would choose

strangling in death rather than my bones. I loathe my life. I would not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.

What is man that you make so much of him, and that you set your heart on him, visit him every morning

and test him every moment. How long will you not look away from me, nor leave me alone till I swallow my spit?

If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of mankind?

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