Job 3

Ver. 1, 2. After these seven days were finished Job gave vent to that grief, which had so long stupified him, in the most bitter lamentations, and in imprecating mischiefs upon the day of his conception and birth

Job 3:3

Let, said he, the day of my birth, and the night of my conception, be utterly forgotten, as if they had never been

Job 3:4

Let that unhappy day be covered with horrible darkness, and turned into night. And never let one ray of day-light appear thereon

Job 3:5

Let the most frightful darkness, and the most extensive and thick clouds, wholly possess it. Let black burning vapours, and the most fearful disasters render it terrible to men

Job 3:6

Let gross darkness, or absolute extinction, seize upon the night of my conception

Job 3:7

Let that wretched night be as barren of every thing comfortable as a flinty rock: and let men never meet together on it for feasting or mirth: nor let a single whisper of joy be heard on it

Job 3:8

Let the most skilful mourners, who imprecate woe upon the days of uncommon disasters, effectually curse it by name as the direful mother of monsters, redoubled terrors, and mischiefs

Job 3:9

Let nothing but the most frightful darkness seize upon it, without a single glimmering of a star, or the smallest dawning of a long-looked for morning

Job 3:10

Because it did not bury me in my mother’s womb, and thus secure me from those miseries which I now feel

Job 3:11

What a wretched misfortune was it that I did not die in the womb, in the birth, or immediately after!

Job 3:12

What a misfortune that they, who received me from the womb, did not let me fall on the ground, and dash out my brains; or that the nurse did not refuse to give me suck!

Job 3:13

For thus should I have lain still as a ship at anchor; I should have felt none of those miseries which I now endure: but had lain quiet and undisturbed in the grave

Job 3:14

Equal to kings and great men, who lie alone in the tombs which they built for themselves

Job 3:15

And to princes, who in 3 their life had heaped up riches and wealth

Job 3:16

Or like a concealed abortive infant, which was never numbered among men

Job 3:17

There, in the grave, the most wicked can hurt no one; and they, who had been restlessly tossed and wearied with violence, enjoy the profoundest safety and rest

Job 3:18

There the condemned prisoners and enslaved captives enjoy the most perfect case, and do not so much as hear the voice of an oppressor or exactor of labour

Job 3:19

There every person is on an equal level of power and greatness; and the servant is as free as his master

Job 3:20

Is it not strange that a man should be forced to live when his miserable condition makes him heartily abhor it

Job 3:21

Who in vain wishes for death, and seeks it more eagerly than the greatest riches

Job 3:22

And who would more gladly leap into his grave than the covetous miser can meet with a rich vein of silver

Job 3:23

Being so oppressed, and shut up with God’s indignation, that he knows no other way to turn himself!

Job 3:24

For my meat doth but sustain a miserable life, which is filled up with heart-sinking sobs, and loud roaring, on account of my troubles

Job 3:25

For whatever dreadful things I fear, they immediately come upon me, notwithstanding all my care to prevent them

Job 3:26

In my prosperity I never securely trusted in my riches, nor indulged myself in carnal ease; yet that has not preserved me from being miserable. And in this distress I have had no rest; and yet further billows of tossing troubles are still coming upon me

REFLECTIONS UPON CHAP. III.—How dreadful are the days, the ages, in hell, on which heaven frowns, and which earth forgets, joy forsakes, and curses attend! The best, when left to themselves, may fall into the greatest folly and guilt; become mad in their wishes, liberal of their curses, cruel to their friends, and unthankful to their God! But how much better is the never-cursed day of our spiritual and eternal birth than that of our natural! How helpless are men when they come into this world: But kind is the care of providence about them. How levelling are the strokes of death! None of our earthly honours dare enter the grave. Happy only those in it who die in the Lord! What relief from trouble, what rest, what liberty, they enjoy! But sad is the case when inflicted troubles, and want of prospect of deliverance, make even saints to long for death, and bid it welcome. To quarrel with the life which God bestows is to sin against our own mercies. Fretfulness and impatience at our lot can only aggravate our sufferings. And to reflect on God’s providence is to accuse himself. It is our happiness that our time is in God’s hand. The more irksome this life is, we should be the more solicitous to prepare for a better. And they only are fit to die who are content to live; and, satisfied under every burden, wait cheerfully the Lord’s pleasure