JOB 30

1 But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.⋮

2 Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? men in whom ripe age is perished.⋮

3 They are gaunt with want and famine; they gnaw the dry ground; in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.⋮

4 They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; and the roots of the broom are their meat.⋮

5 They are driven forth from the midst of men; they cry after them as after a thief.⋮

6 In the clefts of the valleys must they dwell, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.⋮

7 Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they are gathered together.⋮

8 They are children of fools, yea, children of base men; they were scourged out of the land.⋮

9 And now I am become their song, yea, I am a byword unto them.⋮

10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and spare not to spit in my face.⋮

11 For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me, and they have cast off the bridle before me.⋮

12 Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they thrust aside my feet, and they cast up against me their ways of destruction.⋮

13 They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, even men that have no helper.⋮

14 As through a wide breach they come: in the midst of the ruin they roll themselves upon me.⋮

15 Terrors are turned upon me, they chase mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away as a cloud.⋮

16 And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold upon me.⋮

17 In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.⋮

18 By the great force of my disease is my garment disfigured: it bindeth me about as the collar of my coat.⋮

19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I am become like dust and ashes.⋮

20 I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou lookest at me.⋮

21 Thou art turned to be cruel to me: with the might of thy hand thou persecutest me.⋮

22 Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; and thou dissolvest me in the storm.⋮

23 For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.⋮

24 Surely against a ruinous heap he will not put forth his hand; though it be in his destruction, one may utter a cry because of these things.⋮

25 Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? was not my soul grieved for the needy?⋮

26 When I looked for good, then evil came; and when I waited for light, there came darkness.⋮

27 My bowels boil, and rest not; days of affliction are come upon me.⋮

28 I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.⋮

29 I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.⋮

30 My skin is black, and falleth from me, and my bones are burned with heat.⋮

31 Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of them that weep.⋮