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Moff by section JOB 15:1

⌂ ← JOB 15:1–15:35 → ║ ═ ©

Job 15

15 Then Eliphaz the Temanite replied:

“Would any man of sense argue so wildly,

or make himself a windbag?

Would he talk on, to no profit,

with words that serve no purpose?

You undermine religion,

with your threatening of God;

it is your sin inspiring you to speak,

to choose your ground so cunningly.

Were you the first man to be born?

Are you older than the hills?

Are you a member of God’s inner council?

Have you made divine wisdom all your own?

Do you know anything we do not know?

What lore is yours that is not ours?

Grey hairs and age are on our side,

men older far than your own father.

The divine comfort that we bring, you slight,

these words of ours that deal with you so gently?

Why let your passions carry you away?

Why do your eyes flash proudly?

You are convicted out of your own mouth;

your own lips prove--not I--

that you turn angrily on God,

and talk rebelliously.

What is man? how should he be clean?

Man born of woman, how should he be pure?

Even on his angels God cannot rely,

the very heavens are stained to him;

and how much more a loathsome, tainted creature,

a man who gulps down wickedness like water.'

Listen, let me tell you this,

let me relate what I have learned--

a truth that wise men handed down,

imparted to them by their fathers,

who had the land all to themselves,

untainted by a foreigner.

‘The bad man suffers torment all his life,

through all the years he has to work his will.

Terrors are always sounding in his ears;

some plunderer will break his peace, he fears;

Of lasting through the dark hour, he despairs--

sure that his doom is fixed,

to be the vulture’s prey,

to perish by the sword;

the dark days terrify him,

anguish and agony overpower him.

For he challenged God,

he matched himself against the Almighty,

charging at him haughtily,

behind stout bossed shields--

so swollen in prosperity,

so bloated in his wealth.

He rebuilt ruined cities for himself,

places that no man ought to dwell in.

But what he won he cannot keep,

the harvest of his gain he cannot reap.

His branches wither in the heat,

his fruit is whirled off by the wind;

his boughs fade all too soon,

before their fronds are green;

he drops his unripe clusters like a vine,

he sheds his blossoms like an olive.

For the godless are a barren tribe,

and fire destroys the men who bribe;

big with mischief, they bear mischief--

disappointment--for themselves!’ ”

⌂ ← JOB 15:1–15:35 → ║ ═ ©

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