The Book of Job

⭑ Unlocked Literal Bible :: World English Bible Catholic ⭑

- Chapter 30 -

Now those who are younger than I have nothing but mockery for me-these young men whose fathers I would have refused to allow to work beside the dogs of my flock.

Indeed, the strength of their fathers’ hands, how could it have helped me-men in whom the strength of their mature age had perished?

They were thin from poverty and hunger; they gnawed at the dry ground in the darkness of wilderness and desolation.

They plucked saltwort and bushes’ leaves; the roots of the broom tree were their food.

They were driven out from among people who shouted after them as one would shout after a thief.

So they had to live in river valleys, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.

Among the bushes they brayed like donkeys; under the bushes they gathered together.

They were the sons of fools, indeed, sons of nameless people! They were driven out of the land with whips.

But now, for their sons I have become their subject for a song of mockery; indeed, I am now a joke to them.

They abhor me and stand far off from me; they do not refrain from spitting in my face.

For God has unstrung the string to my bow and has afflicted me, and so these people lose all self-control in front of me.

Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they drive me away and pile up against me their siege mounds.

They destroy my path; they push forward disaster for me, men who have no one to hold them back.

They come against me like an army through a wide hole in a city wall; in the midst of the destruction they roll themselves in on me.

Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is driven away as if by the wind; my prosperity passes away as a cloud.

Now my life is pouring out from within me; many days of suffering have laid hold on me.

In the night my bones in me are pierced; the pains that gnaw at me take no rest.

God’s great force has seized my clothing; it wraps around me like the collar of my tunic.

He has thrown me into the mud; I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry to you, God, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you merely look at me.

You have changed and become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you persecute me.

You lift me up to the wind and cause it to drive me along; you throw me back and forth in a storm.

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

However, does no one reach out with his hand to beg for help when he falls? Does no one in trouble call out for help?

Did not I weep for him who was in trouble? Did I not grieve for the needy man?

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

My heart is troubled and does not rest; days of affliction have come on me.

I go about with darkened skin but not because of the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.

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

My skin is black and falls away from me; my bones are burned with heat.

Therefore, my harp is tuned for songs of mourning, my flute for the singing of those who wail.

“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.