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Job_10:1 My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
Ver. 1. My soul is weary of my life] Because it is a lifeless life. Mortis habet vires, a death more like. Life is sweet, and every creature maketh much of it, from the highest angel in heaven to the lowest worm on earth. The Scripture setteth it forth as a sweet mercy, Gen_45:28 Lam_3:39 Est_7:3 Jer_39:18; Jer_51:5. But God can so embitter it with outward and inward troubles, that it shall become a burden. "I am weary of my life" (saith good Rebekah, Gen_27:46), and "What good shall my life do me?" David, forced to be in bad company, cries, Oh that I had the wings of a dove, &c. Woe is me that I sojourn in Meshech, &c. Elijah, fleeing from Jezebel, requested for himself that he might die, saying, "It is enough, Lord, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers," 1Ki_19:4. No: but God had provided some better thing for him (as the apostle speaketh in another case, Heb_11:40), for he was shortly after translated and taken out of the reach both of Jezebel, whom he feared, and of death, which he desired. Sed multi magni viri sub Eliae iunipero sedent, saith one, many good men sit under Elijah’ juniper, wishing to be out of the world, if God were so pleased, that they might rest from their labours, and be rid of their many burdens and bondages; as, in the mean while, they rather endure life than desire it, as holding it little better than hell, were it not for the hopes they have of heaven hereafter.
I will leave my complaint upon myself] Liberty I will take to complain, whatever come of it. I will lay the reins in the neck, and let my passions have their full swing at my peril. See the like Job_13:3. Verum Iob hac in re nimius, saith Mercer, but Job was to blame in doing and saying thus; and it is to be attributed to the infirmity of the flesh, wherewith, although the spirit do notably combat, yet the flesh seemeth sometimes and in some sort to get the better. Nimis augusta res est, nuspiam errare, saith one; Triste mortalitatis privilegium est, licere aliquando peccare, saith another. The snow like swan hath black legs; and in many things we offend all: gold is not to be refused because it wanteth some grains, and hath a crack, &c.
I will speak in the bitterness of my soul] And so seek to ease my grief by giving a vent unto it. But it is evident that such outbursts and overflowings of the gall and spleen come from a fulness of bad humours.