<< Job 6:11 >>

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  • Psalms 103:14-16
    For he knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.As for man, his days are as grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; And the place thereof shall know it no more.
  • Job 17:1
    My spirit is consumed, my days are extinct, The grave is ready for me.
  • Psalms 39:5
    Behold, thou hast made my days as handbreadths; And my life- time is as nothing before thee: Surely every man at his best estate is altogether vanity.[ Selah
  • Psalms 102:23
    He weakened my strength in the way; He shortened my days.
  • Job 10:20
    Are not my days few? cease then, And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
  • Job 13:28
    Though I am like a rotten thing that consumeth, Like a garment that is moth- eaten.
  • Job 17:14-16
    If I have said to corruption, Thou art my father; To the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister;Where then is my hope? And as for my hope, who shall see it?It shall go down to the bars of Sheol, When once there is rest in the dust.
  • Job 21:4
    As for me, is my complaint to man? And why should I not be impatient?
  • Job 13:25
    Wilt thou harass a driven leaf? And wilt thou pursue the dry stubble?
  • Job 7:5-7
    My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; My skin closeth up, and breaketh out afresh.My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, And are spent without hope.Oh remember that my life is a breath: Mine eye shall no more see good.
  • Psalms 90:5-10
    Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: In the morning they are like grass which groweth up.In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; In the evening it is cut down, and withereth.For we are consumed in thine anger, And in thy wrath are we troubled.Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, Our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: We bring our years to an end as a sigh.The days of our years are threescore years and ten, Or even by reason of strength fourscore years; Yet is their pride but labor and sorrow; For it is soon gone, and we fly away.