Job 30:22-31 ▼

22 You pick me up on the wind and make me ride on it; you toss me about in the storm.

23 I know that you are bringing me to death, to the meeting place for all the living.

24 |Surely one does not stretch out his hand against a broken man when he cries for help in his distress.

25 Have I not wept for the unfortunate? Was not my soul grieved for the poor?

26 But when I hoped for good, trouble came; when I expected light, then darkness came.

27 My heart is in turmoil unceasingly; the days of my affliction confront me.

28 I go about blackened, but not by the sun; in the assembly I stand up and cry for help.

29 I have become a brother to jackals and a companion of ostriches.

30 My skin has turned dark on me; my body is hot with fever.

31 My harp is used for mourning and my flute for the sound of weeping.