The Book of Job

⭑ Geneva Bible :: World English Bible Catholic ⭑

- Chapter 30 -

Bvt now they that are yonger then I, mocke me: yea, they whose fathers I haue refused to set with the dogges of my flockes.

For whereto shoulde the strength of their handes haue serued mee, seeing age perished in them?

For pouertie and famine they were solitary, fleeing into the wildernes, which is darke, desolate and waste.

They cut vp nettels by the bushes, and the iuniper rootes was their meate.

They were chased forth from among men: they shouted at them, as at a theefe.

Therfore they dwelt in the clefts of riuers, in the holes of the earth and rockes.

They roared among the bushes, and vnder the thistles they gathered themselues.

They were the children of fooles and the children of villaines, which were more vile then the earth.

And now am I their song, and I am their talke.

They abhorre me, and flee farre from mee, and spare not to spit in my face.

Because that God hath loosed my corde and humbled mee, they haue loosed the bridle before me.

The youth rise vp at my right hand: they haue pusht my feete, and haue trode on me as on the paths of their destruction.

They haue destroyed my paths: they tooke pleasure at my calamitie, they had none helpe.

They came as a great breach of waters, and vnder this calamitie they come on heapes.

Feare is turned vpon mee: and they pursue my soule as the winde, and mine health passeth away as a cloude.

Therefore my soule is nowe powred out vpon me, and the dayes of affliction haue taken holde on me.

It pearceth my bones in the night, and my sinewes take no rest.

For the great vehemencie is my garment changed, which compasseth me about as the colar of my coate.

He hath cast me into the myre, and I am become like ashes and dust.

Whe I cry vnto thee, thou doest not heare me, neither regardest me, when I stand vp.

Thou turnest thy selfe cruelly against me, and art enemie vnto mee with the strength of thine hand.

Thou takest me vp and causest mee to ride vpon the winde, and makest my strength to faile.

Surely I knowe that thou wilt bring mee to death, and to the house appoynted for all the liuing.

Doubtles none can stretch his hand vnto the graue, though they cry in his destruction.

Did not I weepe with him that was in trouble? was not my soule in heauinesse for the poore?

Yet when I looked for good, euill came vnto me: and when I waited for light, there came darkenesse.

My bowels did boyle without rest: for the dayes of affliction are come vpon me.

I went mourning without sunne: I stood vp in the congregation and cryed.

I am a brother to the dragons, and a companion to the ostriches.

My skinne is blacke vpon me, and my bones are burnt with heate.

Therefore mine harpe is turned to mourning, and mine organs into the voyce of them that weepe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.

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

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

My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.

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