Job 30

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision,

Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me?

They are gaunt with want and famine;

They pluck salt-wort by the bushes;

They are driven forth from the midst of men;

So that they dwell in frightful valleys,

Among the bushes they bray;

They are children of fools, yea, children of base men;

And now I am become their song,

They abhor me, they stand aloof from me,

For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me;

Upon my right hand rise the rabble;

They mar my path,

As through a wide breach they come:

Terrors are turned upon me;

And now my soul is poured out within me;

In the night season my bones are pierced in me,

By God’s great force is my garment disfigured;

He hath cast me into the mire,

I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me:

Thou art turned to be cruel to me;

Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it;

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death,

Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall?

Did not I weep for him that was in trouble?

When I looked for good, then evil came;

My heart is troubled, and resteth not;

I go mourning without the sun:

I am a brother to jackals,

My skin is black, and falleth from me,

Therefore is my harp turned to mourning,