"My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope."
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Explore related verses that share similar themes and meanings as Job 7:6
What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should prolong my life?
Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him.
When a few years are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not return.
Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up.
My days are like a shadow that declineth; and I am withered like grass.
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
The wicked is driven away in his wickedness: but the righteous hath hope in his death.
The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field:
Withhold thy foot from being unshod, and thy throat from thirst: but thou saidst, There is no hope: no; for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go.
That at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world:
For the sun is no sooner risen with a burning heat, but it 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 ways.
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.
Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ;
My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.
Mine age is departed, and is removed from me as a shepherd's tent: I have cut off like a weaver my life: he will cut me off with pining sickness: from day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.
For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away:
And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it?
Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good.
My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.