The Desire for Rest in Death

Job 3:11-19

Why died I not from the womb? Why did I not give up the ghost when my mother bare me?

Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breasts, that I should suck?

For now should I have lain down and been quiet; I should have slept; then had I been at rest,

With kings and counsellors of the earth, Who built up waste places for themselves;

Or with princes that had gold, Who filled their houses with silver:

Or as a hidden untimely birth I had not been, As infants that never saw light.

There the wicked cease from troubling; And there the weary are at rest.

There the prisoners are at ease together; They hear not the voice of the taskmaster.

The small and the great are there: And the servant is free from his master.