The Book of Job
Job 7
Chapter VII · Vol. II, p. 948
1 Job excuseth his desire of death. 12 He complaineth of his own restlessness, 17 and God's watchfulness.
1 Is therea not ban appointed time to man1 upon earth? are not his days also clike the days of an hireling?
2 As a servant earnestly 2desireth dthe shadow,3 and as an hireling elooketh for the reward of his work;
2 Heb. gapeth after.
d ch.14.6. Is.16.3; 25.4,5; 32.2. Ca.1.7.
3 Any shade in the heat of the day is an inconceivable luxury in a burning climate. See Is.4.6; 32.2. Jonah 4.5,6. C.——'The shadow,' that is the long shadow of evening, which tells of the approach of sunset, and his release from toil. In the East during the heat of day, there is scarcely any perceptible shadow.—P.
e Le.19.13. De.24.15. Mat.20.1,2,8.
4 When I lie down, I say, gWhen shall I arise, and the night be gone?4 and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
5 Myh flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
h ch.17.14; 19.26.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away; oso he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.9
o Ps.103.16; 39.13. ch.14.10; 16.22. 2 Sa.12.23; 14.14. Is.38.11.
9 This does not proceed from ignorance of the great doctrine of a resurrection, which was well known to Abraham (He. 11. 19), but merely asserts that man shall return no more to the relations, employments, and places of this world. See ver. 10.—C.
11 Therefore I qwill not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
15 So that my soul uchooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.1
u ch.10.1; 6.9. 1 Ki.19.4. Jonah 4.3,8. Re.9.6. Ge.27.46.
1 Heb. bones.
16 I loathe it; I would not live alway: xlet me alone; for my days are vanity.
x ch.10.1,20; 14.6. Ps.39.10,13; 89.47,48.
17 Whaty is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?
y Ps.8.4; 144.3. He.2.6. 1 Sa.24.14. Ru.2.10. 2 Sa.7.18.
19 Howb long wilt thou not depart3 from me, nor let me alone, till I swallow down4 my spittle?5
b Ps.39.10; 13.1-3; 80.4. ch.9.18.
3 How long wilt thou not depart, but still continue to afflict?—C.
4 Cutaneous ulcerations frequently extend to the interior, and the throat is often specially affected, so that swallowing becomes very painful, and while earnestly desired, nearly impossible.—C.
5 This is an ordinary Arab proverb, somewhat like our expression, 'the twinkling of an eye.' It denotes the shortest space of time.—P.
20 I chave sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou dPreserver of men? ewhy hast thou set me as a mark6 against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?
c 2 Sa.24.10. Ps.32.5. Je.3.13,21. Is.64.6.
d Or, Observer, Ps.36.6; 7.9; 11.4.
e Ps.21.12?. ch.6.12. La.3.12. ver.12,14-16.
6 A mark for all thine arrows, ch. 6. 4.—C.
Notes
Is there not a warfare of trouble, and the set time thereof appointed, for wretched man upon earth? Are not his days fixed and determined, and full of toil and labour? 2. As a servant wearied with the toils of the day desires a place of refreshment, and as a hireling looks for the end and reward of his work, so I long for death, to deliver me from my miseries and bring me to my glorious reward. For I have now allotted me for my portion months of wretchedness and vanity without any solid comfort; and in the night, when others rest from their sorrows, I can but restlessly increase mine. 4. I am scarcely laid down on my bed when, through agony and pain, I wish to be up again; and I am continually tormented both in body and mind. 5. For my body is overspread with ulcers, filled with worms, and crusted over with scabs, which have made such clefts in my skin that I am become loathsome to myself. 6. My happy days have quickly run over in a moment, and there is no hope that I shall recover them. 7. Remember, O God, how short and unsubstantial my life is, though once it was pleasant; and when once dead, I shall never return to my possessions and worldly prosperity. 8. My friends shall never more see me in this mortal state. Thou dost but frown upon me and I vanish out of this world. 11. Since there is no hope that my condition will be better in this world, therefore I will give some vent to the extremity of my sorrow by complaining. 12. Am I so strong and unruly that nothing but such strong chains of affliction can tame, rule, or restrain me? 16. Either cease from afflicting me or from preserving me in life; for my days have no need to be made more miserable and fading than they are of themselves. 17. What is man that thou shouldest honour him so much as to contend with him, and set thyself against him in rendering him so miserable? 18. And that thou shouldest visit him with new afflictions every morning, and try him with new strokes every moment? 19. If thou art so patient and kind to the generality of mankind, why wilt thou not turn away thy displeasure from me, and at least give me time to breathe? 20. I cannot satisfy thy justice for my sins, O thou Observer of men: yet why hast thou set me up as a mark for thy vengeance to shoot at and run against, so that I am a burden to myself and to thee? 21. Why wilt thou not forgive me my sin, and at least release me so far from its punishment that I may die? for if thou come not speedily to help me it will be too late.
Ver. 5. [There can be no question that Job was afflicted by some loathsome disease of the skin, of what specific kind we cannot tell, and mere conjecture is useless. Were conjecture permitted, it is most probable that the disease was sui generis, unprecedented, and hence the astonishment of his friends, and their conviction that it was a divine judgment. C.]
Ver. 12. [Am I a sea or a whale? Am I an inundation, such as that of the Nile, whose risings are eagerly watched by appointed officers; or a dragon (as the word is translated, ch. 30. 29; Mi. 1. 8; Mal. 1. 3), that is, as a crocodile, which is also watched lest it should destroy those who observe the inundation. C.]
Ver. 21. [Job does not absolutely deny his sin (see ver. 20), but merely questions its magnitude in the sight of the 'Observer of men,' and murmurs against what he judges the long delay of pardon. C.]
Reflections.—Our life hath its bounds and form unalterably fixed by God's decree. But how short-lived and hard is the condition of mankind on earth! Surely then we ought to be humble, whose bodies are so vile, and our days so empty and short? And sweet must the heavenly rest be to those who get thither through so much tribulation. It is proper therefore to die with affections quite weaned from this world and set on things above. But if the saints' afflictions can be so terrible, so constant on earth, what must hell be to the wicked for evermore! How terrible to be driven thither in our wickedness! to fall into the hands of an angry God! The views then of our near approaching death ought to animate our confessions of sin, our cries for pardon of it, and deliverance from it. It is a mercy that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin, the most unadvised and desperate expostulations with God not excepted: and sprinkled with this, we may cheerfully bid adieu to this valley of tears and sorrows.