Job 30

1 But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.
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2 Yes, whereto might the strength of their hands profit me, in whom old age was perished?
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3 For want and famine they were solitary; fleeing into the wilderness in former time desolate and waste.
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4 Who cut up mallows by the bushes, and juniper roots for their meat.
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5 They were driven forth from among men, (they cried after them as after a thief;)
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6 To dwell in the cliffs of the valleys, in caves of the earth, and in the rocks.
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7 Among the bushes they brayed; under the nettles they were gathered together.
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8 They were children of fools, yes, children of base men: they were viler than the earth.
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9 And now am I their song, yes, I am their byword.
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10 They abhor me, they flee far from me, and spare not to spit in my face.
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11 Because he has loosed my cord, and afflicted me, they have also let loose the bridle before me.
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12 On my right hand rise the youth; they push away my feet, and they raise up against me the ways of their destruction.
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13 They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, they have no helper.
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14 They came on me as a wide breaking in of waters: in the desolation they rolled themselves on me.
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15 Terrors are turned on me: they pursue my soul as the wind: and my welfare passes away as a cloud.
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16 And now my soul is poured out on me; the days of affliction have taken hold on me.
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17 My bones are pierced in me in the night season: and my sinews take no rest.
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18 By the great force of my disease is my garment changed: it binds me about as the collar of my coat.
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19 He has cast me into the mire, and I am become like dust and ashes.
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20 I cry to you, and you do not hear me: I stand up, and you regard me not.
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21 You are become cruel to me: with your strong hand you oppose yourself against me.
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22 You lift me up to the wind; you cause me to ride on it, and dissolve my substance.
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23 For I know that you will bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.
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24 However, he will not stretch out his hand to the grave, though they cry in his destruction.
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25 Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? was not my soul grieved for the poor?
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26 When I looked for good, then evil came to me: and when I waited for light, there came darkness.
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27 My bowels boiled, and rested not: the days of affliction prevented me.
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28 I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation.
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29 I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls.
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30 My skin is black on me, and my bones are burned with heat.
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31 My harp also is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of them that weep.
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