Job 30Tree of Life Version (TLV)
Cry of Great Agony
30 “But now they mock me—those younger than me,
whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.
2 Moreover, what use was the strength of their hands to me,
since their vigor has gone from them.
3 Haggard from want and hunger,
they gnaw the parched land,
in former time desolate and waste.
4 In the brush they pluck salt herbs,
and their food was from the root of the broom tree.
5 They were banished from society,
shouted at as if they were thieves,
6 so they were forced to dwell in wadis,
in holes of the earth and among the rocks.
7 They brayed among the bushes
and huddled under the nettles.
8 A senseless and nameless brood,
they were cast out from the land.
9 “So now I have become their taunt song;
I have become a byword to them.
10 They despise me;
they keep their distance from me;
they do not hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Because He has loosened my cord and afflicted me,
they have cast off restraint in my presence
12 On my right the rabble rise up;
they entangle my feet
and build up their destructive paths against me.
13 They break up my path;
they succeed in destroying me without anyone helping them.
14 As through a wide breach they come;
amid the ruins they come rolling in.
15 Terrors are turned on me;
they chase away my honor like the wind,
and like a cloud my deliverance vanishes.
16 “And now my soul is poured out within me;
days of suffering have taken hold of me.
17 Night pierces my bones within me;
my gnawing pains never rest.
18 By great power He seizes my garment;
He binds me like the collar of my tunic.
19 He has cast me into the mud,
and I have become like dust and ashes.
20 “I cry out to You, but You do not answer me;
I stand up, but You only look at me.
21 You have turned on me cruelly;
You attack me with the might of Your hand.
22 You lift me up on the wind
and make me ride on it;
You toss me about in the storm.
23 For I know that you will bring me to death,
to the house appointed for all the living.
24 Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out His hand,
and in his distress cry for help?
25 Have I not wept for the unfortunate?
Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26 Yet, when I hoped for good, evil came;
when I waited for light, then darkness came.
27 “My heart seethes and never stops;
days of suffering confront me.
28 I walk about blackened, but not by the sun;
I stand in the assembly and cry for help.
29 I have become a brother to jackals,
and a companion to ostriches.
30 My skin has turned black on me;
my bones burn with heat.
31 My harp is for mourning
and my flute for the sound of weeping.