Job 17:1

King James Version (Oxford) 1769

My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, The graves are ready for me.

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For I will not contend for ever, neither will I be always wroth: for the spirit should fail before me, and the souls which I have made.

After this lived Job an hundred and forty years, and saw his sons, and his sons' sons, even four generations.

My breath is strange to my wife, Though I intreated for the children's sake of mine own body.

What is my strength, that I should hope? And what is mine end, that I should prolong my life?

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

When a few years are come, Then I shall go the way whence I shall not return.

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