Job 17
1 My spirit, is broken, My days, are extinguished, Graves, are left me.
Mi spirit schal be maad feble; my daies schulen be maad schort, and oneli the sepulcre is left to me.
2 Verily there are mockers, with me! And, on their insults, mine eye doth rest.
Y have not synned, and myn iye dwellith in bittirnessis.
3 Appoint it, I pray thee—be thou surety for me with thyself, Who is there that, on my side, can pledge himself?
Lord, delyuere thou me, and sette thou me bisidis thee; and the hond of ech fiyte ayens me.
4 For, their heart, hast thou kept back from understanding, On this account, thou wilt not exalt them.
Thou hast maad the herte of hem fer fro doctryn, `ethir knowyng of treuthe; therfor thei schulen not be enhaunsid.
5 He that, for a share, denounceth friends, even, the eyes of his children, shall be dim.
He bihetith prey to felowis, and the iyen of hise sones schulen faile.
6 But he hath set me, as the byword of peoples, And, one to be spit on in the face, do I become.
He hath set as in to a prouerbe of the comyn puple, and his saumple bifor hem.
7 Therefore hath mine eye become dim from vexation, and, my members, are like a shadow, all of them.
Myn `iye dasewide at indignacioun; and my membris ben dryuun as in to nouyt.
8 Upright men shall be astounded over this, and, the innocent, against the impious, shall rouse themselves.
Iust men schulen wondre on this thing; and an innocent schal be reisid ayens an ypocrite.
9 That the righteous may hold on his way, and, the clean of hands, increase in strength.
And a iust man schal holde his weie, and he schal adde strengthe to clene hondis.
10 But indeed, as for them all, will ye bethink yourselves and enter into it, I pray you? Or shall I not find, among you, one who is wise?
Therfor alle `ye be conuertid, and come ye; and Y schal not fynde in you ony wiys man.
11 My days, are past, my purposes, are broken off, the possessions of my heart!
My daies ben passid; my thouytis ben scaterid, turmentynge myn herte.
12 Night for day, they appoint, Light, is near, by reason of darkness!
Tho han turned the nyyt `in to day; and eft aftir derknessis hope liyt.
If Y `susteyne, ether suffre pacientli, helle is myn hous; and Y haue arayede my bed in derknessis. (Sheol h7585)
14 To corruption, have exclaimed, My father, thou! My mother! and My sister! to the worm.
Y seide to rot, Thou art my fadur; and to wormes, Ye ben my modir and my sister.
15 Where then would be my hope? And, as for my blessedness, who should see it!
Therfor where is now myn abidyng? and who biholdith my pacience?
