Job 30

1 “But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.⋮

2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?⋮

3 They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.⋮

4 They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.⋮

5 They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,⋮

6 so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.⋮

7 They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.⋮

8 They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.⋮

9 “Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.⋮

10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.⋮

11 For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.⋮

12 On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.⋮

13 They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.⋮

14 As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.⋮

15 Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.⋮

16 “Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.⋮

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

18 My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.⋮

19 He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.⋮

20 I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.⋮

21 You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.⋮

22 You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.⋮

23 For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.⋮

24 “However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?⋮

25 Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?⋮

26 When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.⋮

27 My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on 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 grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.⋮

31 Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.⋮