Job 17
1 My breath is exhausted; My days are at an end; The grave is ready for me.
“My spirit is broken; my days are extinguished; the grave awaits me.
2 Are not revilers before me? And doth not my eye dwell upon their provocations?
Surely mockers surround me, and my eyes must gaze at their rebellion.
3 Give a pledge, I pray thee; be thou a surety for me with thee; Who is he that will strike hands with me?
Give me, I pray, the pledge You demand. Who else will be my guarantor?
4 Behold, thou hast blinded their understanding; Therefore thou wilt not suffer them to prevail.
You have closed their minds to understanding; therefore You will not exalt them.
5 He who delivereth up his friends as a prey, —The eyes of his children shall fail.
If a man denounces his friends for a price, the eyes of his children will fail.
6 He made me the by-word of the people; Yea, I have become their abhorrence.
He has made me a byword among the people, a man in whose face they spit.
7 My eye therefore is dim with sorrow, And all my limbs are as a shadow.
My eyes have grown dim with grief, and my whole body is but a shadow.
8 Upright men will be astonished at this, And the innocent will rouse themselves against the wicked.
The upright are appalled at this, and the innocent are stirred against the godless.
9 The righteous will also hold on his way, And he that hath clean hands will gather strength.
Yet a righteous one holds to his way, and the one with clean hands grows stronger.
10 But as for you all, return, I pray! I find not yet among you one wise man.
But come back and try again, all of you. For I will not find a wise man among you.
11 My days are at an end; My plans are broken off; Even the treasures of my heart.
My days have passed; my plans are broken off— even the desires of my heart.
12 Night hath become day to me; The light bordereth on darkness.
They have turned night into day, making light seem near in the face of darkness.
If I look for Sheol as my home, if I spread out my bed in darkness, (Sheol h7585)
14 I say to the pit, Thou art my father! And to the worm, My mother! and, My sister!
and say to corruption, ‘You are my father,’ and to the worm, ‘My mother,’ or ‘My sister,’
15 Where then is my hope? Yea, my hope, who shall see it?
where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me?
