In contrast to the happy past of honour and respect on which he has been so wistfully dwelling in the previous chapter, Job sees himself now exposed to the scorn and contempt of the meanest of mankind; while a flood of miseries from the hand of God passes over him. From this last chapter we have learned the honour and authority with which it sometimes pleases God to crown the pious and the faithful. From the present we see how at other times he crucifies and puts them to the proof. They must be tried on "the right hand and on the left" (2 Corinthians 6:7; comp. Philippians 4:12). We are reminded, too, of the transiency of all worldly good. The heavens and the earth shall perish; how much more the glory, power, and happiness of the flesh (Isaiah 40.)!

I. THE CONTEMPT OF MEN. (Vers. 1-10.) The young men, who were wont to rise in his presence, laugh him to scorn; youths whose fathers, the lowest of mankind - thievish, faithless, and worthier, a - were of leas value than the watch-dogs of his flock (ver. 1). Themselves, the young men had been of no service to him; they had failed of the full strength of manhood; dried up with want and hunger, they had derived their scanty subsistence from the desolate and barren steppe (vers. 2, 3); plucking up the salt herbs and bushes and juniper roots for food (ver. 4). These wretches led the life of pariahs; driven forth from the society of men, the hunt-cry was raised after them as after thieves. Their place of dwelling was in horrid ravines and caves and rocks (vers. 5, 6). Their wild shouts were heard in the bush; they lay and formed their plots of robbery among the nettles (ver. 7). Sons of fools and base men, they were scourged out of the land (ver. 8). A fearful picture of the dregs of human life! Perhaps those Troglodytes (comp. Job 24:4:) were the Horites, the original inhabitants of the mountainous country of Seir, conquered by the Edomites (Genesis 36:6-8; Deuteronomy 2:12, 22). Of these degraded beings Job has now become the scoffing-song, the derisive byword (ver. 9). They show towards him every mark of abhorrence, retreating from him, or only drawing near to spit in his face with the silent coarse language of contumely and disgust (ver. 10; comp. Matthew 26:67; Matthew 27:30). Had Job in any way brought this treatment upon himself from the vilest of mankind? Certainly there is nothing in the story which leads us to cast the blame of haughty or heartless conduct upon the hero. Still, it is ever true that we reap as we sow; but the sower and the reaper may be different persons. The cruel measure meted out to these unfortunates is now measured to the innocent Job. It is not in human nature to requite love with hatred or to give loathing in return for kindness. The responsibility of society for its outcasts is a deep lesson which we have only begun in modern times to learn. All men, however fallen and low, must be treated as the creatures of God. If we treat them as wild beasts, we can but expect the wild-beast return. Said Rabbi Ben Azar, "Despise not any man, and spurn not anything. For there is no man that hath not his hour, nor is there anything that hath not its place." Says our own Wordsworth -

"He who feels contempt
For any living thing, hath faculties
That he hath never used, and thought with him
Is in its infancy." And again -

"Be assured That least of all can aught that ever owned
The heaven-regarding eye and front sublime
Which man is born to, sink, howe'er depressed,
So low as to be scorned without a sin,
Without offence to God, cast out of view." Condescend to men of low estate. Gentleness and compassion to our inferiors is one of the chief lessons of our holy religion.

II. ABANDONMENT TO MISERY BY GOD. (Vers. 11-15.) Health and happiness are ours when God holds us by his hand; sickness, languor, and mental misery when he loosens his grasp. Job's nerves are relaxed. The war-bands of the Almighty have loosed the bridle; angels and messengers of ill, diseases and plagues, hunt the unhappy sufferer down (ver. 11). This dark throng seems to rise up at his right hand - the place of the accuser (Psalm 109:6) - and to push away his feet, driving him into a narrow space, laying open before him their ways of destruction, heaping up against him besieging ramparts, thus tearing down his own path, his formerly undisputed way of life. They help forward his ruin, needing no assistance from others in the pernicious work (vers. 12, 13). On comes this terrible besieging host, as through a wide breach in the wall of life - rolls on with loud roar, while the defences fall into ruin (ver. 14). Terrors turn against him, sudden horrors of death (comp. Job 18:11, 14; Job 27:20) hunting after his honour - the honour depicted in Job 29:20, seq. His happiness, in consequence of these violent assaults, passes away suddenly and tracklessly as a cloud from the face of heaven (ver. 15; comp. Job 7:9; Isaiah 44:22). If God lays his hand upon the body or outward happiness of his children, there will seldom be release without inward conflict, anguish, fear, and terror. It is with such persons as with St. Paul; without is conflict, and within is fear (2 Corinthians 7:5).

III. INCONCEIVABLE INWARD DISTRESS. (Vers. 16-23.) His soul is melted and poured out within him; his frame is dissolved in tears. Days of pain hold him in their grip, refuse to depart and leave him in peace (ver. 16). The night racks and pierces his bones, and allows his sinews no rest (ver. 17). By the fearful power of God he is so withered up that his garment hangs loose about him, wraps him like the collar of a coat, nowhere fitting his body (ver. 18). God has cast him upon the ash-heap - a sign of the deepest humiliation (Job 16:15) - till his skin resembles dust and ashes in its hue (ver. 19). In this nerveless condition prayer itself seems unable to stir its loftiest, most hopeful energies. He can but cry, grievously and in supplication, but without the hope of being heard. "I stand, and thou lookest fixedly at me" - no sign of attention in thy glance, of favour in thine eye (ver. 20). The aspect of the almighty Father, seen through the medium of intense suffering, becomes one of cruelty and horror (ver. 21). Lifting him upon the storm-wind as upon a chariot (comp. 2 Kings 2:11), God causes him to be carried away, and dissolved as it were in the yeasty surging of the storm (ver. 22). He knows that God is carrying him to death, the place of assembly for all the living (ver. 23).

IV. FAILURE OF ALL HIS HOPES. (Vers. 24-31.) According to human calculation, he must despair of life. But can the unhappy man be blamed if he stretches out his hand for help amidst the ruin of his fall, and sends forth his cry as he passes into destruction? Is not this a law for all living creatures (ver. 24)? Did not Job show compassion in all the misfortunes of others, and has he not, therefore, a right to complain, and expect compassion in his own (ver. 25)? All the suffering of Job is condemned in the thought that, after the happiness of former days had bred hopes of the like future, he was visited by the deepest misery, and cast into the lowest distress (vers. 26-31). The light of former days glances upon him again, and so his address reverts to its beginning (ch. 29.). Hoping for good, there ensued evil (Isaiah 59:9; Jeremiah 14:19); waiting for the light, deeper darkness came on. There is an inward seething of the mind. Days of affliction have fallen upon him. He goes darkened, without the glow of the sun; his swarthy appearance is due to another cause - he is smeared with dust and ashes. He stands in the assembly, giving loud vent to his lamentation amidst the mourning company who surround him. A "brother to the jackals, a comrade of the ostriches," these desert creatures of the loud and plaintive cry, is be. His black skin parts and falls from him; his bones are parched by a consuming heat. And then, in one beautiful poetic touch, the whole description of his woe is summed up, "My harp became mourning, and my shalm mournful tones." But he will yet learn to tune his harp again to gladness and praise. Now, however, his melancholy haunts him; and not one kindly glance pierces the gloom of his dark thoughts to give him comfort. But despair of self has never led Job to despair of God. There is still, therefore, a glimmering spark of hope amidst this wild storm. He carries in his hand a bud which will yet unfold into a flower. This is no example of the fatal sorrow of the world, but of the life-giving power of the sorrow that is after God (compare Robertson's sermon on the 'Power of Sorrow,' vol. 2.). - J.

In these verses the patriarch sketches his great corporeal sufferings, his physical anguish. Probably man's capability of bodily suffering is greater than that of any other animal existence. His nerves are more tender, his organisation is more exquisite and complicated.

I. It tends to stimulate INTELLECTUAL RESEARCH. "Pain," says a modern author, "has been the means of our increasing our knowledge, our skill, and our comforts. Look to the discoveries made in science — in botany, in chemistry, in anatomy: what a knowledge have we gained of the structures and uses of plants, while we were seeking some herb to soothe pain or cure disease! What a knowledge have we gained of drugs, and salts, and earths, useful for agriculture, or for the fine arts, while we have been seeking only to find an ointment or a medicine! We have sought a draught to allay the burning thirst of a fever, and we have found a dozen delicious beverages to drink for our pleasure or relief. We studied anatomy to find out the seat of disease, and how to attack it, and we found what we did not seek — a thousand wonderful works of God, a thousand most curious contrivances, most admirable delights! We found a model for the ribs of a ship; we found the pattern of a telescope in the eye; we found joints and straps, strutting and valves, which have been copied into the workshop of the mechanic and the study of the philosopher. Yes, we may thank our liability to pain for this — for if pain had not existed, who can tell whether these things would have been so soon, if at all discovered."

II. It tends to heighten man's ESTIMATE OF DIVINE GOODNESS. The physical sufferings of men, however aggravated and extensive, are not the law of human life, but the exception. They are but a few discordant notes in the general harmony of his existence, a few stormy days and nights in his voyage through life. We appreciate the dawning of the morning, because we have struggled fiercely with difficulties in the night. We appreciate the full flow of health because we have felt the torture of disease. Inasmuch, therefore, as human suffering, which is an exception in the general life of mankind, helps to heighten our estimate of God's goodness to our race, it is anything but an unmitigated evil. Nay, it is a blessing in disguise.

III. IT TENDS TO IMPROVE OUR SPIRITUAL NATURE. Physical sufferings have led many a man to a train of spiritual reflections that have resulted in the moral salvation of the soul. As by the chisel the sculptor brings beauty out of the marble block; as by the pruning knife the gardener brings rich clusters from the vine; as by the bitter drug the physician brings health to his patient; as by the fire the refiner brings pure gold out of the rough ore — so by suffering the great Father brings spiritual life, beauty, and perfection into the soul. "Affliction," says quaint old Adams, "is a winged chariot, that mounts up the soul toward heaven."

(Homilist.)