Thematic Bible




Thematic Bible



He raiseth from the dust the poor, From a dunghill He lifteth up the needy, To cause them to sit with nobles, Yea, a throne of honour He doth cause them to inherit, For to Jehovah are the fixtures of earth, And He setteth on them the habitable world.


And wander continually do his sons, Yea, they have begged, And have sought out of their dry places.



And the steward said in himself, What shall I do, because my lord doth take away the stewardship from me? to dig I am not able, to beg I am ashamed: --

And wander continually do his sons, Yea, they have begged, And have sought out of their dry places.










And thy poverty hath come as a traveller, And thy want as an armed man!



The slothful hath said, 'A lion is without, In the midst of the broad places I am slain.'






The slothful hath said, 'A lion is without, In the midst of the broad places I am slain.'

The way of the slothful is as a hedge of briers, And the path of the upright is raised up.


Near the field of a slothful man I passed by, And near the vineyard of a man lacking heart. And lo, it hath gone up -- all of it -- thorns! Covered its face have nettles, And its stone wall hath been broken down. And I see -- I -- I do set my heart, I have seen -- I have received instruction, read more.
A little sleep -- a little slumber -- A little folding of the hands to lie down. And thy poverty hath come as a traveller, And thy want as an armed man!

Poor is he who is working -- a slothful hand, And the hand of the diligent maketh rich. Whoso is gathering in summer is a wise son, Whoso is sleeping in harvest is a son causing shame.

The desire of the slothful slayeth him, For his hands have refused to work. All the day desiring he hath desired, And the righteous giveth and withholdeth not.

The slothful hath said, 'A lion is in the way, A lion is in the broad places.' The door turneth round on its hinge, And the slothful on his bed. The slothful hath hid his hand in a dish, He is weary of bringing it back to his mouth. read more.
Wiser is the slothful in his own eyes, Than seven men returning a reason.




From the inner chamber cometh a hurricane, And from scatterings winds -- cold,

Casting forth His ice like morsels, Before His cold who doth stand?