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