Job-30

(English Standard Version)

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  • 1 "But now they laugh at me, men who are younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
  • 2 What could I gain from the strength of their hands, men whose vigor is gone?
  • 3 Through want and hard hunger they gnaw the dry ground by night in waste and desolation;
  • 4 they pick saltwort and the leaves of bushes, and the roots of the broom tree for their food.
  • 5 They are driven out from human company; they shout after them as after a thief.
  • 6 In the gullies of the torrents they must dwell, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
  • 7 Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they huddle together.
  • 8 A senseless, a nameless brood, they have been whipped out of the land.
  • 9 "And now I have become their song; I am a byword to them.
  • 10 They abhor me; they keep aloof from me; they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of me.
  • 11 Because God has loosed my cord and humbled me, they have cast off restraint in my presence.
  • 12 On my right hand the rabble rise; they push away my feet; they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
  • 13 They break up my path; they promote my calamity; they need no one to help them.
  • 14 As through a wide breach they come; amid the crash they roll on.
  • 15 Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is pursued as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed away like a cloud.
  • 16 "And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold of me.
  • 17 The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
  • 18 With great force my garment is disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic.
  • 19 God has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
  • 20 I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me.
  • 21 You have turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you persecute me.
  • 22 You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
  • 23 For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all living.
  • 24 "Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help?
  • 25 Did not I weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
  • 26 But when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, darkness came.
  • 27 My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me.
  • 28 I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
  • 29 I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches.
  • 30 My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat.
  • 31 My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.
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