Job 14 – The Amalgamation
Mortals are born,
With short lives sated with turmoil.
Like a flower,
They blossom and whither,
Like a shadow,
They are fleeting and do not endure.
Is it upon such a one that you fix your eyes?
Bring all to judgement before you?
Who can distinguish the pure from the impure?
No one else.
Indeed,
Their days are determined,
You decreed the number of their months,
Set bounds they cannot pass.
Turn your gaze from them,
Stop watching.
Until like a hired laborer,
They complete their days.
For there is hope for a tree,
If it be cut down,
That it will sprout again,
And its shoots will not cease.
Though its roots grow older in the earth,
Its stump dies in the soil.
Yet, at the scent of water it will blossom,
Putting forth boughs like a sapling.
But humans die, wasted away,
Breathe their last, and are no more,
As water vanishes from a lake,
And a river is parched and dries up.
So, they lie down, never to rise,
Until the heavens are no more,
They will not awake,
Nor be roused from their sleep.
Would that you hid me in Sheol,
Concealed me until your wrath be past,
Appoint me a term, then attend me.
If mortals die, shall they live again?
All my term, would I wait,
Until my release shall come.
You would call and I would answer,
Should you yearn to see the work of your hands.
For then you would count my steps,
But not keep track of my sin.
You would seal up my transgression in a bag,
You would cover over my iniquity.
But as mountains collapse and crumble,
Rocks are dislodged from their place.
As water wears away stone,
Torrents wash away the earth’s soil
So, you destroy the hopes of man.
You assail them constantly,
And they perish.
You alter their visage,
And send them off.
Their children attain honor,
And they never know.
Their children are humbled,
And they are unaware.
Indeed,
The flesh knows only its own pain,
The soul mourns only itself.