Job 14

Great^{(i) 1} Man that is borne of woman, hath but a short tyme to lyue, and is full of miserye. ² He commeth vp and is cutt downe lyke a floure. He flyeth as it were a shadowe, and neuer contynueth in one state. ³ Doest thou open thyne eyes vpon soche one, and bryngest me in thy iudgement? ⁴ Who can make cleane, that commeth of an vncleane thynge? Nobody. ⁵ The dayes of man surely are determyned, the nombre of his monethes are knowne onely vnto the. Thou hast appoynted hym hys boundes, whych he can not go beyonde. ⁶ God from hym, that he maye rest vntyll hys daye come: which he loketh for, lyke as an hyrelynge doth. ⁷ If a tre be cut downe, there is some hope yet, that it wyll sproute, and shute forth the braunches agayne. ⁸ For though the rote of it be waxen olde, and the stock therof be dead in the ground, yet when it ⁹ getteth the sent of water, it wyll budde, and brynge forth bowes, lyke as a tre that is planted. ¹⁰ But as for man, when he is dead, perisshed and consumed awaye, what becommeth of hym? ¹¹ The floudes when they be dryed vp, and the ryuers when they be empty, are filled agayne thorowe the flowynge waters of the see: ¹² but when man slepeth, he ryseth not agayne, (of hys awne strength) vntyll the heauen perysh: he shall not wake vp ner ryse out of hys slepe. ¹³ O that thou woldest kepe me, and hyde me in the hell, vntyll thy wrath were stylled: and to appoynte me a tyme, wherin thou myghtest remembre me. ¹⁴ Maye a dead man lyue agayne? All the dayes of my lyfe wyll I waite styll, tyll my chaungynge shall come. ¹⁵ Thou shalt call me, and I shall answere the: despyse not thou the worke of thyne awne handes. ¹⁶ For now thou nombrest all my goinges, yet be not thou to extreme vpon my synnes. ¹⁷ My iniquite is sealed vp, as it were in a bagg but be mercyfull vnto my wickednesse. ¹⁸ The mountaynes fall awaye at the last, the rockes are remoued out of theyr place, ¹⁹ the waters pearse thorowe the very stones by lytle and lytle, the floudes wasshe a waye the grauell and earth. And destroyest thou the hope of man? ²⁰ Thou preuaylest styl agaynst him, so that he passeth awaye: thou chaungest hys estate, and puttest hym from the. ²¹ And whether hys chyldren come to worshyp or no, he cannot tell. And yf they be men of lowe degre, he knoweth not. ²² Whyle he lyueth, hys flesh must haue trauayle, and while the soule is in hym, he must be in sorowe.