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OEB JOB Chapter 30

JOB 30 ©

9But now am I become their song,

Yea, I am a by-word among them.

10In horror they stand far aloof,

And they spare not to spit at the sight of me.

11He hath slackened my bow-string, and humbled me,

Flung down my banner before me.

12Against me His hosts stand up,

They raise deadly ramparts against me.

13My path they tear up clean,

My tracks they destroy altogether.

His Archers ring me around,

14As through a wide breach they come in,

Rolling on in the midst of the ruin.

15Terrors are turned upon me;

My weal is the sport of the winds,

And my welfare is passed like a cloud.

16And now is my soul poured out,

The terrors of misery seize me.

17The night boreth into my bones,

And the pains that gnaw never slumber,

18From sore wasting my garments is shrunk;

It clingeth to me like my vest.

19(God) hath plunged me into the mire,

So that I am like dust and ashes.

20I cry, but Thou givest no answer;

Thou standest and heedest me not.

21Cruel to me art Thou turned;

With the might of Thy hand Thou dost scourge me.

22Thou settest me to ride on the wind,

And I melt in the roar of the storm.

23For I know Thou wilt bring me to death,

To the house where all living assemble.

24Yet sinking men stretch out their hand,

And cry for help as they perish.

25He whose days are hard – does he weep not?

Is the soul of the needy not grieved?

26For instead of the good I had hoped for came evil,

Instead of the light I waited came darkness.

27My heart is hot and restless,

And misery daily confronts me.

28I got with my sorrow uncomforted,

Standing where jackals are gathered.

29Brother am I to the wolves,

And of ostriches the companion.

30All backened my skin peels from off me;

My bones are burned with the heat.

31So my lyre is turned into mourning,

My pipe to the voice of lament.

The Defence and Final Appeal

JOB 30 ©

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