Job 30
whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
men in whom ripe age has perished?
They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
The roots of the broom tree are their food.
They cry after them as after a thief;
and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
They are gathered together under the nettles.
They were flogged out of the land.
Yes, I am a byword to them.
and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
and they have thrown off restraint before me.
They thrust aside my feet,
They cast up against me their ways of destruction.
They promote my destruction
without anyone’s help.
They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
They chase my honor as the wind.
My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
I have become like dust and ashes.
I stand up, and you gaze at me.
With the might of your hand you persecute me.
You dissolve me in the storm.
to the house appointed for all living.
Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
When I waited for light, darkness came.
Days of affliction have come on me.
I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
and a companion to ostriches.
My bones are burned with heat.
and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.