Job 30
1 But now those who are younger than I make sport of me; those whose fathers I would not have put with the dogs of my flocks.
But now they that are younger than I hold me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me? all force is gone from them.
Of what use to me would be even the strength of their hands, To whom old age is lost?
3 They are wasted for need of food, biting the dry earth; their only hope of life is in the waste land.
By want and hunger they are famished; They gnaw the dry desert, The darkness of desolate wastes.
4 They are pulling off the salt leaves from the brushwood, and making a meal of roots.
They gather purslain among the bushes, And the root of the broom is their bread.
5 They are sent out from among their townsmen, men are crying after them as thieves
They are driven from the society of men; There is a cry after them as after a thief.
6 They have to get a resting-place in the hollows of the valleys, in holes of the earth and rocks.
They dwell in gloomy valleys, In caves of the earth and in rocks.
7 They make noises like asses among the brushwood; they get together under the thorns.
They bray among the bushes; Under the brambles are they stretched out.
8 They are sons of shame, and of men without a name, who have been forced out of the land.
An impious and low-born race, They are beaten out of the land.
9 And now I have become their song, and I am a word of shame to them.
And now I am become their song; Yea, I am their by-word!
10 I am disgusting to them; they keep away from me, and put marks of shame on me.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me; They forbear not to spit before my face.
11 For he has made loose the cord of my bow, and put me to shame; he has sent down my flag to the earth before me.
Yea, they let loose the reins, and humble me; They cast off the bridle before me.
12 The lines of his men of war put themselves in order, and make high their ways of destruction against me:
On my right hand riseth up the brood; They thrust away my feet; They cast up against me their destructive ways.
13 They have made waste my roads, with a view to my destruction; his bowmen come round about me;
They break up my path; They hasten my fall, —They who have no helper!
14 As through a wide broken place in the wall they come on, I am overturned by the shock of their attack.
They come upon me as through a wide breach; Through the ruins they rush in upon me.
15 Fears have come on me; my hope is gone like the wind, and my well-being like a cloud.
Terrors are turned against me; They pursue my prosperity like the wind, And my welfare passeth away like a cloud.
16 But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
And now my soul poureth itself out upon me; Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.
By night my bones are pierced; they are torn from me, And my gnawers take no rest.
18 With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.
Through the violence of my disease is my garment changed; It bindeth me about like the collar of my tunic.
19 Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
20 You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.
I call upon Thee, but thou dost not hear me; I stand up before thee, but thou regardest me not.
21 You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.
Thou art become cruel to me; With thy strong hand dost thou lie in wait for me.
22 Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.
Thou liftest me up, and causest me to ride upon the wind; Thou meltest me away in the storm.
23 For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.
I know that thou wilt bring me to death, To the place of assembly for all the living.
24 Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?
When He stretcheth out his hand, prayer availeth nothing; When He bringeth destruction, vain is the cry for help.
25 Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?
Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26 For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.
But when I looked for good, then evil came; When I looked for light, then came darkness.
27 My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.
My bowels boil, and have no rest; Days of anguish have come upon me.
28 I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.
I am black, but not by the sun; I stand up, and utter my cries in the congregation.
29 I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.
I am become a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.
30 My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.
My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones burn with heat.
31 And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.
My harp also is turned to mourning, And my pipe to notes of grief.
