Job 17
1 My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, and the graue is readie for me.
My spirit will be wasted, my days will be shortened, and only the grave will be left for me.
2 There are none but mockers with mee, and mine eye continueth in their bitternesse.
I have not sinned, yet my eye remains in bitterness.
3 Lay downe nowe and put me in suretie for thee: who is hee, that will touch mine hand?
Free me, O Lord, and set me beside you, and let the hand of anyone you wish fight against me.
4 For thou hast hid their heart from vnderstanding: therefore shalt thou not set them vp on hie.
You have set their heart far from discipline; therefore, they will not be praised.
5 For the eyes of his children shall faile, that speaketh flattery to his friends.
He promises prey to his companions, but the eyes of his sons will grow faint.
6 Hee hath also made mee a byword of the people, and I am as a Tabret before them.
He has posted me like a proverb to the people, and I am an example in their presence.
7 Mine eye therefore is dimme for griefe, and all my strength is like a shadowe.
My eyesight has been clouded by indignation, and my limbs have been reduced, as if to nothing.
8 The righteous shalbe astonied at this, and the innocent shalbe moued against ye hypocrite.
The just will be astounded over this, and the innocent will be stirred up against the hypocrite.
9 But the righteous wil holde his way, and he whose hands are pure, shall increase his strength.
And the just will cling to his way, and clean hands will increase strength.
10 All you therefore turne you, and come nowe, and I shall not finde one wise among you.
Therefore, be converted, all of you, and approach, for I do not find in you any wisdom.
11 My dayes are past, mine enterprises are broken, and the thoughts of mine heart
My days have passed away; my thoughts have been scattered, tormenting my heart.
12 Haue changed the nyght for the day, and the light that approched, for darkenesse.
They have turned night into day, and I hope for light again after the darkness.
13 Though I hope, yet the graue shall bee mine house, and I shall make my bed in the darke. (Sheol h7585)
If I should wait, the underworld is my house, and in darkness I have spread out my bed. (Sheol h7585)
14 I shall say to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worme, Thou art my mother and my sister.
I have said to decay and to worms: “You are my father, my mother, and my sister.”
15 Where is then now mine hope? or who shall consider the thing, that I hoped for?
Therefore, where is my expectation now, and who is it that considers my patience?
