Job 30
World English Bible
30 “But now those who are younger than I have me in derision,
whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me,
men in whom ripe age has perished?
3 They are gaunt from lack and famine.
They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4 They pluck salt herbs by the bushes.
The roots of the broom tree are their food.
5 They are driven out from among men.
They cry after them as after a thief;
6 So that they dwell in frightful valleys,
and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 They bray among the bushes.
They are gathered together under the nettles.
8 They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men.
They were flogged out of the land.
9 “Now I have become their song.
Yes, I am a byword to them.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me,
and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
11 For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me;
and they have thrown off restraint before me.
12 On my right hand rise the rabble.
They thrust aside my feet,
They cast up against me their ways of destruction.
13 They mar my path.
They promote my destruction
without anyone’s help.
14 As through a wide breach they come.
They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
15 Terrors have turned on me.
They chase my honor as the wind.
My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
16 “Now my soul is poured out within me.
Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 In the night season my bones are pierced in me,
and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
18 My garment is disfigured by great force.
It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
19 He has cast me into the mire.
I have become like dust and ashes.
20 I cry to you, and you do not answer me.
I stand up, and you gaze at me.
21 You have turned to be cruel to me.
With the might of your hand you persecute me.
22 You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it.
You dissolve me in the storm.
23 For I know that you will bring me to death,
to the house appointed for all living.
24 “However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall?
Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
25 Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble?
Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
26 When I looked for good, then evil came.
When I waited for light, darkness came.
27 My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest.
Days of affliction have come on me.
28 I go mourning without the sun.
I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
29 I am a brother to jackals,
and a companion to ostriches.
30 My skin grows black and peels from me.
My bones are burned with heat.
31 Therefore my harp has turned to mourning,
and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
Job 30
Common English Bible
Mockers
30 But now those younger than I mock me,
whose fathers I refused to put beside my sheepdogs.
2 Their strength, what’s it to me,
their energy having perished?
3 Stiff from want and hunger,
those who gnaw dry ground,
yesterday’s desolate waste,
4 who pluck off the leaves on a bush,
the root of the broom—
a shrub is their food.
5 People banish them from society,
shout at them as if to a thief;
6 so they live in scary ravines,
holes in the ground and rocks.
7 Among shrubs, they make sounds like donkeys;
they are huddled together under a bush,
8 children of fools and the nameless,
whipped out of the land.
Specific mocking behavior
9 And now I’m their song;
I’m their cliché!
10 They detest me, keep their distance,
don’t withhold spit from my face.
11 Because he loosened my bowstring and afflicted me,
they throw off restraint in my presence.
12 On the right, upstarts[a] rise and target my feet,
build their siege ramps against me,
13 destroy my road, profit from my fall,
with no help.
14 They advance as if through a destroyed wall;[b]
they roll along beneath the ruin.
15 Terrors crash upon me;
they sweep away my honor like wind;
my safety disappears like a cloud.
Accusation against God
16 Now my life is poured out on me;
days of misery have seized me.
17 At night he bores my bones;
my gnawing pain won’t rest.
18 With great force he grasps[c] my clothing;[d]
it binds me like the neck of my shirt.
19 He hurls me into mud;
I’m a cliché, like dust and ashes.
20 I cry to you, and you don’t answer;
I stand up, but you just look at me.
21 You are cruel to me,
attack me with the strength of your hand.
22 You lift me to the wind and make me ride;
you melt me in its roar.
23 I know you will return me to death,
the house appointed for all the living.
Job’s agony
24 Surely he won’t strike someone in ruins
if in distress he cries out to him,
25 if I didn’t weep for those who have a difficult day
or my soul grieve for the needy;
26 for I awaited good, but evil came;
I expected light, but gloom arrived.
27 My insides, churning, are never quiet;
days of affliction confront me.
28 I walk in the dark, lacking sunshine;
I rise in the assembly and cry out.
29 I have become a brother to jackals,
a companion to young ostriches.
30 My skin is charred;
my bones are scorched by the heat.
31 My lyre is for mourning,
my flute, a weeping sound.
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