And Job arose, and tore his robe, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground and worshiped.

And when they lifted up their eyes afar off, and did not know him, they lifted up their voice and wept. And each one tore his robe, and they sprinkled dust upon their heads toward Heaven.

For there is hope of a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and its tender branch will not cease.

He has broken me on every side, and I am gone, and He has uprooted my hope like a tree.

And the clods of the valley shall be sweet to him and every man shall draw after him, as there is no numbering of those before him.

The womb shall forget him; the worm shall feed sweetly on him; he shall be remembered no more; and injustice shall be broken like a tree.

If my heart has been enticed by a woman, or I have laid wait at my neighbor's door,

then let me tremble before a great multitude, and be terrified by the scorn of families; and I will be silent and not go out the door.

Do you know the time when the wild goats of the rock bring forth? Can you observe the calving of deer?

Can you draw out the leviathan with a hook, or hold down his tongue with a cord?

None is so fierce as to dare to stir him up; who then is able to stand before Me?