Job Prepares for Death

1My breth fayleth, my dayes are shortened, I am harde at deathes dore.

2I haue disceaued no man, yet must myne eye cotinue in heuynesse

3O delyuer me, and set me by the, who shall then be able to thrust my hondes together?

4Thou hast withholde their hertes from vnderstodinge, therfore shall they not be set vp an hye.

5He promiseth his fredes parte of his good, but his owne childre spende it.

6He hath made me as it were a byworde of the comon people, I am his gestinge stocke amoge the.

7My countenaunce is heuy for very anger, & the membres of my body are become like a shadowe.

8Vertuous me therfore shall wel cosidre this, and the innocent shal take parte agaynst the Ypocrite.

9The rightuous wil kepe his waye, and he yt hath cleane handes, wil euer be stronger & stronger.

10As for you, turne you, & get you hence, for I can not se one wyse ma amonge you.

11My dayes are past, my thoughtes are vanished awaye, which haue vexed myne herte,

12chaunginge the night in to daye, & ye light in to darcknes.

13Though I tary neuer so moch, yet the graue is my house, and I must make my bed in the darcke.

14I call corrupcion my father, and the wormes call I my mother and my sister.

15What helpeth then my longe tarienge? Or, who wil fulfill the thinge, that I loke for?

16All that I haue, shall go downe in to the pytt, & lye with me in the dust.