Job’s Honor Turned to Contempt

1And now the younger than I laughed upon me, which I rejected their fathers to set with the dogs of my flock.

2Also the strength of their hands wherefore to me? Upon them old age perished.

3In want and in hunger, barren, gnawing the dry land, yesternight desolation and burning.

4Plucking off sea purslain upon the shrub, the root of broom their bread.

5They shall be driven forth from the midst, they shall cry after them as a thief:

6To dwell in the horror of the valleys, holes of the dust, and the rocks.

7Between the shrubs they will bray; they will be poured out under the thorn bush.

8The sons of the foolish one, also the sons of no name: they were beaten from the land.

9And now I was their song, and I to them for a by word.

10They abhorred me, they removed far from me, and withheld not spittle from my face.

11Because he loosed his cord and he will afflict me, and they cast off the bridle from before me.

12Upon the right the brood will rise up; they cast away my feet, and they will cast up the paths of their destruction against me.

13They tore up my beaten path, they helped for my fall, no help to them.

14They will come as a wide breach under a destroying tempest, they rolled themselves.

Job’s Prosperity Becomes Calamity

15Terror turned upon me, it will pursue my willingness as the wind, and my salvation passed away as a cloud.

16And now my soul shall be poured out upon me; and the days of affliction will hold me fast.

17The night my bones pierced from above me, and my gnawers will not lie down.

18By the multitude of power my clothing will be disguised: it will gird me about as the mouth of my coat.

19He cast me to the clay; I shall become like as dust and ashes.

20I shall cry to thee and thou wilt not answer me: I stood up and thou wilt not attend to me.

21Thou wilt turn to be cruel to me: with the strength of thy hand thou wilt lie in wait for me.

22Thou wilt lift me up to the wind; thou wilt cause me to ride, and thou wilt melt to me counsel.

23For I knew thou wilt turn me back to death, and the house appointed to all living.

24But prayer is nothing; he will send forth the hand, if in his calamity to them a cry for help.

25If I wept not for him being hard of day: my soul was grieved for the needy.

26For I hoped for good and evil will come: and I shall wait for light and darkness will come.

27My bowels boiled, and were not silent: the days of affliction anticipated me.

28I went darkened without warmth: I rose up, I shall cry in the convocation.

29I was a brother to jackals, and a companion to the daughters of the ostrich.

30My skin was black from above me, and my bones burnt from heat.

31And my harp will be for mourning, and my pipe for the voice of those weeping.