Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head, and he fell to the ground and worshiped.

When they lifted up their eyes at a distance and did not recognize him, they raised their voices and wept. And each of them tore his robe and they threw dust over their heads toward the sky.

“My days are past, my plans are torn apart,
Even the wishes of my heart.

“O you who tear yourself in your anger—
For your sake is the earth to be abandoned,
Or the rock to be moved from its place?

“He is torn from the security of his tent,
And they march him before the king of terrors.

“Behold, He tears down, and it cannot be rebuilt;
He imprisons a man, and there can be no release.

“His anger has torn me and hunted me down,
He has gnashed at me with His teeth;
My adversary glares at me.