Hast not Thou made a hedge for him, and for his house, and for all that he hath -- round about?

The work of his hands Thou hast blessed, and his substance hath spread in the land, and yet, put forth, I pray Thee, Thy hand, and strike against anything that he hath -- if not: to Thy face he doth bless Thee!'

And Jehovah saith unto the Adversary, 'Lo, all that he hath is in thy hand, only unto him put not forth thy hand.' And the Adversary goeth out from the presence of Jehovah.

In all this Job hath not sinned, nor given folly to God.

Yet, put forth, I pray Thee, Thy hand, and strike unto his bone and unto his flesh -- if not: unto Thy face he doth bless Thee!'

And he saith unto her, 'As one of the foolish women speaketh, thou speakest; yea, the good we receive from God, and the evil we do not receive.' In all this Job hath not sinned with his lips.

and they lift up their eyes from afar and have not discerned him, and they lift up their voice and weep, and rend each his robe, and sprinkle dust on their heads -- heavenward.

Let the day perish in which I am born, And the night that hath said: 'A man-child hath been conceived.'

That day -- let it be darkness, Let not God require it from above, Nor let light shine upon it.

That night -- let thick darkness take it, Let it not be united to days of the year, Into the number of months let it not come.

Lo! that night -- let it be gloomy, Let no singing come into it.

Let the stars of its twilight be dark, Let it wait for light, and there is none, And let it not look on the eyelids of the dawn.

Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.

Why from the womb do I not die? From the belly I have come forth and gasp!

(Or as a hidden abortion I am not, As infants -- they have not seen light.)

Together prisoners have been at ease, They have not heard the voice of an exactor,

Who are waiting for death, and it is not, And they seek it above hid treasures.

I was not safe -- nor was I quiet -- Nor was I at rest -- and trouble cometh!

Is not thy reverence thy confidence? Thy hope -- the perfection of thy ways?

In thoughts from visions of the night, In the falling of deep sleep on men,

It standeth, and I discern not its aspect, A similitude is over-against mine eyes, Silence! and a voice I hear:

Hath not their excellency been removed with them? They die, and not in wisdom!

For sorrow cometh not forth from the dust, Nor from the ground springeth up misery.

Making void thoughts of the subtile, And their hands do not execute wisdom.

By day they meet darkness, And as night -- they grope at noon.

Lo, the happiness of mortal man, God doth reprove him: And the chastisement of the Mighty despise not,

In six distresses He delivereth thee, And in seven evil striketh not on thee.

When the tongue scourgeth thou art hid, And thou art not afraid of destruction, When it cometh.

At destruction and at hunger thou mockest, And of the beast of the earth, Thou art not afraid.

And thou hast known that thy tent is peace, And inspected thy habitation, and errest not,

And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.

Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?

Turn back, I pray you, let it not be perverseness, Yea, turn back again -- my righteousness is in it.

Is there in my tongue perverseness? Discerneth not my palate desirable things?

Is there not a warfare to man on earth? And as the days of an hireling his days?

Remember Thou that my life is a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.

The eye of my beholder beholdeth me not. Thine eyes are upon me -- and I am not.

Consumed hath been a cloud, and it goeth, So he who is going down to Sheol cometh not up.

He turneth not again to his house, Nor doth his place discern him again.

Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.

I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days are vanity.

How long dost Thou not look from me? Thou dost not desist till I swallow my spittle.

Thou dost not take away my transgression, And cause to pass away mine iniquity, Because now, for dust I lie down: And Thou hast sought me -- and I am not!

(For of yesterday we are, and we know not, For a shadow are our days on earth.)

Do they not shew thee -- speak to thee, And from their heart bring forth words?

He leaneth on his house -- and it standeth not: He taketh hold on it -- and it abideth not.

If one doth destroy him from his place, Then it hath feigned concerning him, I have not seen thee!

Lo, God doth not reject the perfect, Nor taketh hold on the hand of evil doers.

Those hating thee do put on shame, And the tent of the wicked is not!

If he delight to strive with Him -- He doth not answer him one of a thousand.

Who is removing mountains, And they have not known, Who hath overturned them in His anger.

Who is speaking to the sun, and it riseth not, And the stars He sealeth up.

Lo, He goeth over by me, and I see not, And He passeth on, and I attend not to it.

God doth not turn back His anger, Under Him bowed have proud helpers.

Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.

Though I had called and He answereth me, I do not believe that He giveth ear to my voice.

He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.

Perfect I am! -- I know not my soul, I despise my life.

Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not -- where, who is he?

My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,

I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.

He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,

I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.

I say unto God, 'Do not condemn me, Let me know why Thou dost strive with me.

For Thou knowest that I am not wicked, And there is no deliverer from Thy hand.

Dost Thou not as milk pour me out? And as cheese curdle me?

If I sinned, then Thou hast observed me, And from mine iniquity dost not acquit me,

If I have done wickedly -- woe to me, And righteously -- I lift not up my head, Full of shame -- then see my affliction,

And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.

As I had not been, I am, From the belly to the grave I am brought,

Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,

Before I go, and return not, Unto a land of darkness and death-shade,

Is a multitude of words not answered? And is a man of lips justified?

For he hath known men of vanity, And He seeth iniquity, And one doth not consider it!

If iniquity is in thy hand, put it far off, And let not perverseness dwell in thy tents.

For then thou liftest up thy face from blemish, And thou hast been firm, and fearest not.

I also have a heart like you, I am not fallen more than you, And with whom is there not like these?

'Who hath not known in all these, That the hand of Jehovah hath done this?

Doth not the ear try words? And the palate taste food for itself?

Lo, He breaketh down, and it is not built up, He shutteth against a man, And it is not opened.

They feel darkness, and not light, He causeth them to wander as a drunkard.

According to your knowledge I have known -- also I. I am not fallen more than you.

Doth not His excellency terrify you? And His dread fall upon you?

Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.

Also -- He is to me for salvation, For the profane cometh not before Him.

Only two things, O God, do with me: Then from Thy face I am not hidden.

Thy hand put far off from me, And Thy terror let not terrify me.

As a flower he hath gone forth, and is cut off, And he fleeth as a shadow and standeth not.

Who giveth a clean thing out of an unclean? not one.

If determined are his days, The number of his months are with Thee, His limit Thou hast made, And he passeth not over;

For there is of a tree hope, if it be cut down, That again it doth change, That its tender branch doth not cease.

And man hath lain down, and riseth not, Till the wearing out of the heavens they awake not, Nor are roused from their sleep.

But now, my steps Thou numberest, Thou dost not watch over my sin.

Honoured are his sons, and he knoweth not; And they are little, and he attendeth not to them.

To reason with a word not useful? And speeches -- no profit in them?

Thy mouth declareth thee wicked, and not I, And thy lips testify against thee.

What hast thou known, and we know not? Understandest thou -- and it is not with us?

Lo, in His holy ones He putteth no credence, And the heavens have not been pure in His eyes.

Which the wise declare -- And have not hid -- from their fathers.

To them alone was the land given, And a stranger passed not over into their midst: