Job 6:11 Cross References - MSTC

¹¹ What power have I to endure? Or, what is mine end, that my soul might be patient?

⁵ My flesh is clothed with worms, filthiness and dust; my skin is withered, and crumpled together; ⁶ my days pass over more speedily than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope. ⁷ "O remember that my life is but a wind, and that mine eye shall no more see the pleasures thereof;

²⁰ Shall not my short life come so soon to an end? O hold thee from me, let me alone, that I may ease myself a little

²⁵ Wilt thou be so cruel and extreme unto a flying leaf, and follow upon dry stubble?

²⁸ Whereas I, notwithstanding, must consume like as a foul carrion, and as a cloth that is moth eaten.

¹ My breath faileth, my days are shortened. I am hard at death's door.

¹⁴ I call corruption my father, and the worms call I my mother and my sister. ¹⁵ What helpeth then my long tarrying? Or, who will fulfill the thing that I look for? ¹⁶ All that I have, shall go down into the pit, and lie with me in the dust."

⁴ Is it with a man, that I make this disputation? Which if it were so, should not my spirit be then in sore trouble?

⁵ Behold, thou hast made my days a span long, and mine age is even as nothing in respect of thee; and verily every man living is altogether vanity. Selah

⁵ As soon as thou scatterest them, they are even as asleep, and fade away suddenly like the grass. ⁶ In the morning it is green and groweth up; but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered. ⁷ For we consume away in thy displeasure, and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation. ⁸ Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee, and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. ⁹ For when thou art angry, all our days are gone; we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told. ¹⁰ The days of our age are threescore years and ten: and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.

²³ He hath brought down my strength in my journey, and shortened my days.

¹⁴ For he knoweth whereof we be made, he remembereth that we are but dust; ¹⁵ that a man in his time is but as grass, and flourisheth as a flower of the field. ¹⁶ For as soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone, and the place thereof knoweth it no more.