Job 17
1 My breath is corrupt: my dayes are cut off, and the graue is readie for me.
My spirit shall be wasted, my days shall be shortened, and only the grave remaineth for me.
2 There are none but mockers with mee, and mine eye continueth in their bitternesse.
I have not sinned, and my eye abideth in bitterness.
3 Lay downe nowe and put me in suretie for thee: who is hee, that will touch mine hand?
Deliver me O Lord, and set me beside thee, and let any man’s hand fight against me.
4 For thou hast hid their heart from vnderstanding: therefore shalt thou not set them vp on hie.
Thou hast set their heart far from understanding, therefore they shall not be exalted.
5 For the eyes of his children shall faile, that speaketh flattery to his friends.
He promiseth a prey to his companions, and the eyes of his children shall fail.
6 Hee hath also made mee a byword of the people, and I am as a Tabret before them.
He hath made me as it were a byword of the people, and I am an example before them.
7 Mine eye therefore is dimme for griefe, and all my strength is like a shadowe.
My eye is dim through indignation, and my limbs are brought as it were to nothing.
8 The righteous shalbe astonied at this, and the innocent shalbe moued against ye hypocrite.
The just shall be astonished at this, and the innocent shall be raised 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 man shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger.
10 All you therefore turne you, and come nowe, and I shall not finde one wise among you.
Wherefore be you all converted, and come, and I shall not find among you any wise man.
11 My dayes are past, mine enterprises are broken, and the thoughts of mine heart
My days have passed away, my thoughts are dissipated, 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 after darkness I hope for light again.
13 Though I hope, yet the graue shall bee mine house, and I shall make my bed in the darke. (Sheol h7585)
If I wait hell is my house, and I have made my bed in darkness. (Sheol h7585)
14 I shall say to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worme, Thou art my mother and my sister.
If I have said to rottenness: Thou art my father; to worms, my mother and my sister.
15 Where is then now mine hope? or who shall consider the thing, that I hoped for?
Where is now then my expectation, and who considereth my patience?
