Job 17
1 Mi spirit schal be maad feble; my daies schulen be maad schort, and oneli the sepulcre is left to me.
“My spirit is broken; my days are extinguished; the grave awaits me.
2 Y have not synned, and myn iye dwellith in bittirnessis.
Surely mockers surround me, and my eyes must gaze at their rebellion.
3 Lord, delyuere thou me, and sette thou me bisidis thee; and the hond of ech fiyte ayens me.
Give me, I pray, the pledge You demand. Who else will be my guarantor?
4 Thou hast maad the herte of hem fer fro doctryn, `ethir knowyng of treuthe; therfor thei schulen not be enhaunsid.
You have closed their minds to understanding; therefore You will not exalt them.
5 He bihetith prey to felowis, and the iyen of hise sones schulen faile.
If a man denounces his friends for a price, the eyes of his children will fail.
6 He hath set as in to a prouerbe of the comyn puple, and his saumple bifor hem.
He has made me a byword among the people, a man in whose face they spit.
7 Myn `iye dasewide at indignacioun; and my membris ben dryuun as in to nouyt.
My eyes have grown dim with grief, and my whole body is but a shadow.
8 Iust men schulen wondre on this thing; and an innocent schal be reisid ayens an ypocrite.
The upright are appalled at this, and the innocent are stirred against the godless.
9 And a iust man schal holde his weie, and he schal adde strengthe to clene hondis.
Yet a righteous one holds to his way, and the one with clean hands grows stronger.
10 Therfor alle `ye be conuertid, and come ye; and Y schal not fynde in you ony wiys man.
But come back and try again, all of you. For I will not find a wise man among you.
11 My daies ben passid; my thouytis ben scaterid, turmentynge myn herte.
My days have passed; my plans are broken off— even the desires of my heart.
12 Tho han turned the nyyt `in to day; and eft aftir derknessis hope liyt.
They have turned night into day, making light seem near in the face of darkness.
13 If Y `susteyne, ether suffre pacientli, helle is myn hous; and Y haue arayede my bed in derknessis. (Sheol h7585)
If I look for Sheol as my home, if I spread out my bed in darkness, (Sheol h7585)
14 Y seide to rot, Thou art my fadur; and to wormes, Ye ben my modir and my sister.
and say to corruption, ‘You are my father,’ and to the worm, ‘My mother,’ or ‘My sister,’
15 Therfor where is now myn abidyng? and who biholdith my pacience?
where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me?
