And there are borne to him seven sons and three daughters,

And the day is, that his sons and his daughters are eating, and drinking wine, in the house of their brother, the first-born.

While this one is speaking another also hath come and saith, 'Thy sons and thy daughters are eating, and drinking wine, in the house of their brother, the first-born.

And lo, a great wind hath come from over the wilderness, and striketh against the four corners of the house, and it falleth on the young men, and they are dead, and I am escaped -- only I alone -- to declare it to thee.'

And three of the friends of Job hear of all this evil that hath come upon him, and they come in each from his place -- Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite -- and they are met together to come in to bemoan him, and to comfort him;

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.

Let the cursers of day mark it, Who are ready to wake up Leviathan.

Wherefore have knees been before me? And what are breasts, that I suck?

Or with princes -- they have gold, They are filling their houses with silver.

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

Small and great are there the same. And a servant is free from his lord.

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

Who are glad -- unto joy, They rejoice when they find a grave.

For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters are my roarings.

Remember, I pray thee, Who, being innocent, hath perished? And where have the upright been cut off?

And unto me a thing is secretly brought, And receive doth mine ear a little of it.

From morning to evening are beaten down, Without any regarding, for ever they perish.

Far are his sons from safety, And they are bruised in the gate, And there is no deliverer.

O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!

For arrows of the Mighty are with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves for me!

My soul is refusing to touch! They are as my sickening food.

That are black because of ice, By them doth snow hide itself.

By the time they are warm they have been cut off, By its being hot they have been Extinguished from their place.

Turn aside do the paths of their way, They ascend into emptiness, and are lost.

They were ashamed that one hath trusted, They have come unto it and are confounded.

Surely now ye have become the same! Ye see a downfall, and are afraid.

Is it because I said, Give to me? And, By your power bribe for me?

Anger on the fatherless ye cause to fall, And are strange to your friend.

And, now, please, look upon me, Even to your face do I lie?

My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.

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

A sea -monster am I, or a dragon, That thou settest over me a guard?

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

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

So are the paths of all forgetting God, And the hope of the profane doth perish,

By a heap his roots are wrapped, A house of stones he looketh for.

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.

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

If there were between us an umpire, He doth place his hand on us both.

As the days of man are Thy days? Thy years as the days of a man?

Thou renewest Thy witnesses against me, And dost multiply Thine anger with me, Changes and warfare are with me.

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

And the eyes of the wicked are consumed, And refuge hath perished from them, And their hope is a breathing out of soul!

Truly -- ye are the people, And with you doth wisdom die.

At peace are the tents of spoilers, And those provoking God have confidence, He into whose hand God hath brought.

Or talk to the earth, and it sheweth thee, And fishes of the sea recount to thee:

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

With Him are wisdom and might, To him are counsel and understanding.

Lo, He keepeth in the waters, and they are dried up, And he sendeth them forth, And they overturn the land.

With Him are strength and wisdom, His the deceived and deceiver.

Lo, all -- hath mine eye seen, Heard hath mine ear, and it attendeth to it.

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

And yet, ye are forgers of falsehood, Physicians of nought -- all of you,

Your remembrances are similes of ashes, For high places of clay your heights.

Hear ye diligently my word, And my declaration with your ears.

And call Thou, and I -- I answer, Or -- I speak, and answer Thou me.

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

And a man dieth, and becometh weak, And man expireth, and where is he?

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

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

Both the gray-headed And the very aged are among us -- Greater than thy father in days.

Too few for thee are the comforts of God? And a gentle word is with thee,

What -- doth thine heart take thee away? And what -- are thine eyes high?

He is wandering for bread -- 'Where is it?' He hath known that ready at his hand Is a day of darkness.

I have heard many such things, Miserable comforters are ye all.

Is there an end to words of wind? Or what doth embolden thee that thou answerest?

I also, like you, might speak, If your soul were in my soul's stead. I might join against you with words, And nod at you with my head.

My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves are for me.

If not -- mockeries are with me. And in their provocations mine eye lodgeth.

For a portion he sheweth friendship, And the eyes of his sons are consumed.

Astonished are the upright at this, And the innocent against the profane Stirreth himself up.

And the righteous layeth hold on his way, And the clean of hands addeth strength, And -- dumb are they all.

And where is now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?

Wherefore have we been reckoned as cattle? We have been defiled in your eyes!

Straitened are the steps of his strength, And cast him down doth his own counsel.

From beneath his roots are dried up, And from above cut off is his crop.

Only these are tabernacles of the perverse, And this the place God hath not known.

Why do you pursue me as God? And with my flesh are not satisfied?

Be ye afraid because of the sword, For furious are the punishments of the sword, That ye may know that there is a judgment.

As his own dung for ever he doth perish, His beholders say: 'Where is he?'

One hath drawn, And it cometh out from the body, And a glittering weapon from his gall proceedeth. On him are terrors.

Hear ye diligently my word, And this is your consolation.

Their houses are peace without fear, Nor is a rod of God upon them.

They wear out in good their days, And in a moment to Sheol go down.

They are as straw before wind, And as chaff a hurricane hath stolen away,

Lo, I have known your thoughts, And the devices against me ye do wrongfully.

For ye say, 'Where is the house of the noble? And where the tent -- The tabernacles of the wicked?'

That to a day of calamity is the wicked spared. To a day of wrath they are brought.

And how do ye comfort me with vanity, And in your answers hath been left trespass?

Widows thou hast sent away empty, And the arms of the fatherless are bruised.

Therefore round about thee are snares, And trouble thee doth fear suddenly.

Or darkness -- thou dost not see, And abundance of waters doth cover thee.

Is not God high in heaven? And see the summit of the stars, That they are high.

Thick clouds are a secret place to Him, And He doth not see;' And the circle of the heavens He walketh habitually,

'Surely our substance hath not been cut off, And their excellency hath fire consumed.'

For He doth complete my portion, And many such things are with Him.

From the inundation of hills they are wet, And without a refuge -- have embraced a rock.

He giveth to him confidence, and he is supported, And his eyes are on their ways.

High they were for a little, and they are not, And they have been brought low. As all others they are shut up, And as the head of an ear of corn cut off.