Job 30

1“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. 2men in whom ripe age has perished? Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, 3They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation. They are gaunt from lack and famine. 4The roots of the broom are their food. They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. 5They cry after them as after a thief; They are driven out from among men. 6and in holes of the earth and of the rocks. So that they dwell in frightful valleys, 7and under the nettles they are gathered together. Among the bushes they bray; 8They were flogged out of the land. They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. 9Yes, I am a byword to them. “Now I have become their song. 10and don’t hesitate to spit in my face. They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, 11and they have thrown off restraint before me. For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; 12They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction. On my right hand rise the rabble. 13They set forward my calamity, without anyone’s help. They mar my path, 14in the middle of the ruin they roll themselves in. As through a wide breach they come, 15They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud. Terrors have turned on me. 16Days of affliction have taken hold on me. “Now my soul is poured out within me. 17and the pains that gnaw me take no rest. In the night season my bones are pierced in me, 18It binds me about as the collar of my coat. By great force is my garment disfigured. 19I have become like dust and ashes. He has cast me into the mire. 20I stand up, and you gaze at me. I cry to you, and you do not answer me. 21With the might of your hand you persecute me. You have turned to be cruel to me. 22You dissolve me in the storm. You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. 23To the house appointed for all living. For I know that you will bring me to death, 24Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? “However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? 25Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy? Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? 26When I waited for light, there came darkness. When I looked for good, then evil came; 27Days of affliction have come on me. My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. 28I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. I go mourning without the sun. 29and a companion to ostriches. I am a brother to jackals, 30My bones are burned with heat. My skin grows black and peels from me. 31and my pipe into the voice of those who weep. Therefore my harp has turned to mourning,