Job

30 “Now they laugh at me+

—Men younger than I am,

Whose fathers I would have refused

To put with the dogs that guarded my flock.

 3 They are worn out from want and hunger;

They gnaw at the parched ground

That was already ruined and desolated.

 4 They gather the salt herb from the bushes;

Their food is the root of broom trees.

 5 They are driven out of the community;+

People shout at them as they would at a thief.

 6 They live on the slopes of ravines,*

In holes in the ground and in the rocks.

 7 From the bushes they cry out

And huddle together among the nettles.

 8 As sons of the senseless and the nameless ones,

They have been driven* out of the land.

 9 But now they mock me even in their songs;+

I have become an object of scorn* to them.+

10 They detest me and keep their distance from me;+

They do not hesitate to spit in my face.+

11 Because God has disarmed me* and humbled me,

They throw off all restraint* in my presence.

12 On my right they rise up like a mob;

They put me to flight

And put up barriers of destruction in my path.

13 They tear up my roadways

And make my calamity worse,+

Without anyone to stop them.*

14 They come as if through a wide breach in the wall;

They roll in amid the devastation.

15 Terror overwhelms me;

My dignity is driven away like the wind,

And my salvation vanishes like a cloud.

16 Now my life* ebbs from me;+

Days of affliction+ take hold of me.

17 Aching pierces my bones* at night;+

The gnawing pain never stops.+

18 With great force my garment is disfigured;*

Like the collar of my garment, it chokes me.

19 God has thrown me down into the mud;

I am reduced to dust and ashes.

20 I cry to you for help, but you do not answer me;+

I stand up, but you just look at me.

21 You have cruelly turned against me;+

With the full might of your hand, you assault me.

22 You pick me up and carry me off with the wind;

Then you toss me about in the storm.*

23 For I know that you will bring me down to death,

To the house where everyone living will meet.

24 But no one would strike at a broken man*+

As he cries for help during his time of disaster.

26 Although I hoped for good, bad came;

I expected the light, but darkness came.

27 The churning inside me did not stop;

Days of affliction confronted me.

29 I have become a brother to jackals

And a companion to the daughters of the ostrich.+

30 My skin has blackened and fallen off;+

My bones burn from the heat.*

31 My harp is used only for mourning,

And my flute* for the sound of weeping.