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Job 7:6

American Standard Version (1901)

My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, And are spent without hope.

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23 Cross References  

Now my days are swifter than a post: They flee away, they see no good.

Where then is my hope? And as for my hope, who shall see it?

For, All flesh is as grass, And all the glory thereof as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower falleth:

The wicked is thrust down in his evil-doing; But the righteous hath a refuge in his death.

Man is like to vanity: His days are as a shadow that passeth away.

My days are past, my purposes are broken off, Even the thoughts of my heart.

whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. What is your life? For ye are a vapor that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

For the sun ariseth with the scorching wind, and withereth the grass; and the flower thereof falleth, and the grace of the fashion of it perisheth: so also shall the rich man fade away in his goings.

that ye were at that time separate from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of the promise, having no hope and without God in the world.

My days are like a shadow that declineth; And I am withered like grass.

For when a few years are come, I shall go the way whence I shall not return.

Behold, he will slay me; I have no hope: Nevertheless I will maintain my ways before him.

What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is mine end, that I should be patient?

Withhold thy foot from being unshod, and thy throat from thirst. But thou saidst, It is in vain; no, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go.

Wherefore girding up the loins of your mind, be sober and set your hope perfectly on the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ;

The waters wear the stones; The overflowings thereof wash away the dust of the earth: So thou destroyest the hope of man.

It shall go down to the bars of Sheol, When once there is rest in the dust.

He hath broken me down on every side, and I am gone; And my hope hath he plucked up like a tree.

My spirit is consumed, my days are extinct, The grave is ready for me.




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