Job

His livestock numbered seven thousand sheep and goats, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred female donkeys, and he had a great many servants. That man was the greatest of all the people of the East.

His sons used to go and hold a feast, each in his own house on his day, and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them.

Whenever the days of feasting had run their course, Job would send for them and consecrate them. He would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings for each one of them, for Job said, “Perhaps my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.” This is what Job always did.note

The LORD said to the Adversary, “Have you given any thought to my servant Job? There is no one like him on earth, a man blameless and upright, who fears God and turns away from evil.” The Adversary answered the LORD, “Is it for nothing that Job fears God?

“Haven’t you yourself put a hedge around him and his household and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his livestock has spread out over the land. But just stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse you to your face.”

The LORD said to the Adversary, “Very well, all that he has is in your hand; only do not stretch out your hand against him.” So the Adversary went out from the presence of the LORD. One day, when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their eldest brother,

a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys grazing beside them, and raiders from Sheba swooped down and took them, and they put the servants to the sword. I alone have escaped to tell you.”

While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The fire of God fell from the sky and blazed among the sheep and the servants and consumed them. I alone have escaped to tell you.”

While he was still speaking, another came and said, “Chaldeans formed three bands, made a raid on the camels and took them, and they put the servants to the sword. I alone have escaped to tell you.”

While he was still speaking, another came and said, “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their eldest brother.

“Then suddenly a great wind came from across the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It fell on the young people, and they died. I alone have escaped to tell you.” Then Job got up, tore his robe and shaved his head. He fell to the ground and bowed low,

The LORD said to the Adversary, “Have you given any thought to my servant Job? There is no one like him on earth, a man blameless and upright, who fears God and turns away from evil. He still holds fast to his integrity, although you incited me against him to destroy him for nothing.”

The Adversary answered the LORD, “Skin for skin! A man will give all that he has for his life. But just stretch out your hand and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will surely curse you to your face.”note

The LORD said to the Adversary, “Very well, he is in your hand; only spare his life.” So the Adversary went out from the presence of the LORD and struck Job with painful sores from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. Job took a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself with as he sat among the ashes.

His wife said to him, “Are you still holding fast to your integrity? Curse God and die.” He said to her, “You are talking like one of the foolish women. Shall we accept the good from God and not accept the bad?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips.

They lifted up their eyes from a distance and did not recognize him. They raised their voices and wept, and each of them tore his robe, and they threw dust into the air over their heads. Then they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great.

That night—let gloom seize it;
let it not be joined to the days of the year;
let it not come into the count of the months.
Yes, let that night be barren;
let no shout of joy come into it.
Let those who curse days damn it,
those skilled to rouse Leviathan.note

Let the stars of its twilight be dark;
let it wait for light, and have none,
and not see the eyelids of the dawn,
because it did not shut the doors of the womb that bore me
or hide trouble from my eyes.
Why did I not die at birth,
come out of the belly and breathe my last?

Why were there knees to receive me,
or breasts for me to suck?
For then I would be lying down in quiet;
I would be asleep, and at rest,
with kings and counselors of the earth
who rebuilt ruins for themselves,
or with princes who had gold,
who filled their houses with silver.

Or like a stillborn child, hidden away, I would never have been,
like infants who never saw the light.
There the wicked cease their turmoil,
and there the weary are at rest.
Prisoners are at ease together;
they do not hear the taskmaster’s voice.

Small and great are there alike,
and the slave is free from his master.
Why is light given to one in misery,
and life to the bitter in soul,
who long for death, but it does not come,
who dig for it more than for hidden treasure,
who would rejoice to the point of exulting,
and be glad to find the grave?

to a man whose way is hidden,
whom God has hedged in?
For my sighing comes in place of my bread,
and my groans pour out like water.
For the thing I dreaded has overtaken me;
what I feared has come upon me.
I have no ease, no quiet, no rest,
and turmoil comes.note

But now it has come to you, and you are weary;
it touches you, and you are dismayed.
Is not your fear of God your confidence,
and your hope the integrity of your ways?
Think now: who that was innocent ever perished?
Where were the upright ever wiped out?

As I have seen, those who plow iniquity
and those who sow trouble reap the same.
By the breath of God they perish;
by the blast of his anger they are consumed.
The roar of the lion, the growl of the fierce lion—
yet the teeth of the young lions are broken.
The old lion perishes for lack of prey,
and the lioness’s cubs are scattered.

A word came to me by stealth;
my ear caught a whisper of it
amid unsettling thoughts from visions of the night,
when deep sleep falls on people.
Dread came upon me, and trembling,
and made all my bones shudder.
A spirit glided past my face;
the hair of my body bristled.

It stood still, but I could not make out its appearance; a form was before my eyes;
there was a hush, and then I heard a voice:
“Can a mortal be righteous before God?
Can a man be pure before his Maker?”
Look, he does not trust his servants,
and he charges his angels with error.note

How much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust,
who are crushed like a moth!
Between morning and evening they are shattered;
unnoticed, they perish forever.
Is not their tent cord pulled up within them?
They die, and not in wisdom.

The hungry eat up his harvest, taking it even from among the thorns,
and the thirsty pant after their wealth.
For affliction does not come up out of the dust,
nor does trouble sprout from the ground;
but humans are born to trouble,
as sparks fly upward.note

But as for me, I would seek out God,
and to God I would lay out my case.
He does great things beyond searching out,
wonders beyond number.
He gives rain on the earth
and sends water on the open fields.
He sets the lowly on high,
and those who mourn are lifted to safety.

He frustrates the plans of the crafty,
so that their hands achieve no success.
He catches the wise in their own craftiness,
and the counsel of the devious is swept headlong.
By day they run into darkness,
and at noon they grope as if it were night.
He saves from the sword of their mouth,
and the needy from the hand of the mighty.

So the poor have hope,
and injustice shuts its mouth.
Look, happy is the one whom God reproves;
so do not reject the discipline of Shaddai.
For he wounds, but he binds up;
he strikes, but his hands heal.
In six troubles he will rescue you;
in seven no harm will touch you.note

In famine he will ransom you from death,
and in war from the power of the sword.
You will be hidden from the lash of the tongue,
and you will not fear destruction when it comes.
At destruction and famine you will laugh,
and you will not fear the wild animals of the earth.
For you will have a covenant with the stones of the field,
and the wild animals of the field will be at peace with you.

You will know that your tent is at peace;
you will inspect your fold and find nothing missing.
You will know that your descendants are many,
and your offspring like the grass of the earth.
You will come to the grave in ripe old age,
as a stack of sheaves is gathered in its season.
Look, this we have searched out; it is so.
Hear it, and know it for yourself.

Does the wild donkey bray over its grass,
or the ox low over its fodder?
Can tasteless food be eaten without salt?
Is there any flavor in the slime of mallow?
I refuse to touch them;
they are like loathsome food to me.
If only my request would be granted,
and God would give me what I hope for!note

If only God would be willing to crush me,
to let loose his hand and cut me off!
Then I would still have this comfort, and I would leap for joy in pain that does not spare—
that I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
What strength do I have, that I should wait?
What end do I have, that I should be patient?
Is my strength the strength of stones?
Is my flesh bronze?note

Is it not that I have no help within me,
and any resource has been driven from me?
The despairing should have loyalty from a friend,
even one who forsakes the fear of Shaddai.
My brothers have been as treacherous as a wadi,
like the channels of wadis that run dry,
that are dark with ice,
where the snow hides itself.note

When they warm up, they vanish;
when it is hot, they disappear from their place.
Caravans turn aside from their course;
they go up into the wasteland and perish.
The caravans of Tema look for them,
the travelers of Sheba hope for them.
They are ashamed, because they trusted;
they come there and are disappointed.note

That is what you have now become;
you see something terrible, and you are afraid.
Did I ever say, “Give me something,”
or “Pay a bribe for me from your wealth,”
or “Rescue me from the hand of the enemy,”
or “Ransom me from the hand of the ruthless”?
Teach me, and I will be silent;
make me understand where I have gone wrong.
How forceful are honest words!
But what does your arguing prove?note

Do you mean to argue against words,
and treat the speech of a desperate man as wind?
You would even cast lots over an orphan
and bargain over your friend.
But now, be willing to look at me;
would I lie to your face?
Turn back, please; let there be no injustice;
turn back—my being in the right is still at stake.
Is there injustice on my tongue?
Can my palate not tell what is ruinous?

My flesh is clothed with worms and crusts of dirt;
my skin cracks and oozes.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
and they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is a breath;
my eye will never again see good.
The eye that sees me will see me no more;
your eyes will be on me, and I will be gone.note

As a cloud fades and is gone,
so whoever goes down to Sheol does not come up.
He will not return to his house again,
and his place will know him no more.
So I, for my part, will not restrain my mouth;
I will speak in the anguish of my spirit;
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.note

Am I the Sea, or the sea monster,
that you set a guard over me?
When I say, “My bed will comfort me,
my couch will ease my complaint,”
then you frighten me with dreams
and terrify me with visions,
so that I would choose strangling,
death rather than these bones of mine.note

I loathe my life; I will not live forever.
Let me alone, for my days are a breath.
What are mortals, that you make so much of them,
that you give them so much thought,
that you inspect them every morning
and test them every moment?
How long will you not look away from me,
nor let me alone long enough to swallow my spit?

If I have sinned, what do I do to you, you watcher of humankind?
Why have you made me your target,
so that I have become a burden to myself?
Why do you not pardon my offense and take away my iniquity?
For soon I will lie down in the dust;
you will search for me, but I will be gone.note

Though your beginning was small,
your end will be very great.
Ask now of the former generation,
and consider what their ancestors searched out.
For we are only of yesterday and know nothing;
our days on earth are a shadow.
Will they not teach you and tell you,
and bring words out of their hearts?

Can papyrus grow tall where there is no marsh?
Can reeds flourish without water?
While still green and not yet cut,
they wither before any other grass.
Such are the paths of all who forget God;
the hope of the godless will perish.
His confidence snaps like a thread,
and his trust is a spider’s house.note

He leans on his house, but it will not stand;
he grabs hold of it, but it will not hold.
He is a lush plant in the sun,
its shoots spreading over its garden.
Its roots twine around a heap of stones;
it looks for a home among the rocks.
If it is torn from its place,
then the place will disown it: “I never saw you.”

Look, that is the joy of its way,
and from the dust others will spring up.
Look, God will not reject a blameless person,
nor take the hand of evildoers.
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter,
and your lips with a shout of joy.
Those who hate you will be clothed with shame,
and the tent of the wicked will be no more.

He shakes the earth from its place,
and its pillars tremble.
He commands the sun, and it does not rise;
he seals up the stars.
He alone stretches out the heavens
and treads on the back of the Sea.
He makes the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades,
and the chambers of the south.note

He does great things beyond searching out,
and wonders beyond number.
Look, he passes by me, and I do not see him;
he moves on, and I do not perceive him.
Look, he snatches away; who can stop him?
Who can say to him, “What are you doing?”
God will not turn back his anger;
beneath him the helpers of Rahab bowed down.note

How then could I answer him,
or choose my words to argue with him?
Even if I were in the right, I could not answer;
I would have to plead for mercy with my judge.
If I summoned him and he answered me,
I do not believe he would listen to my voice.
For he crushes me with a storm
and multiplies my wounds for nothing.
He will not let me catch my breath,
but fills me with bitterness.

If it is a matter of strength, look—he is mighty!
And if of justice, who will appoint me a hearing?
Though I am in the right, my own mouth would condemn me;
though I am blameless, he would prove me crooked.
I am blameless—I do not care about myself;
I despise my life.
It is all one; that is why I say,
he destroys both the blameless and the wicked.

When a scourge brings sudden death,
he mocks the despair of the innocent.
The earth is given into the hand of the wicked; he covers the faces of its judges—
if not he, then who?
My days are swifter than a runner;
they flee away and see no good.
They glide past like boats of reed,
like an eagle swooping on its prey.

If I say, “I will forget my complaint;
I will put off my sad face and be cheerful,”
I dread all my sufferings,
for I know you will not hold me innocent.
I am going to be found guilty;
why then should I labor in vain?
If I washed myself with snow
and cleansed my hands with lye,
you would still plunge me into a pit,
and my own clothes would abhor me.

For he is not a man like me, that I could answer him,
that we could come to trial together.
There is no arbiter between us
to lay his hand on us both.
Let him take his rod away from me,
and let his terror not frighten me.
Then I would speak and not fear him,
for within myself I am not like that.note

Do you have eyes of flesh?
Do you see as a mortal sees?
Are your days like the days of a mortal,
or your years like the years of a man,
that you seek out my iniquity
and search for my sin,
although you know that I am not guilty,
and there is no one to rescue from your hand?

Your hands shaped me and made me,
every part of me—and now you destroy me.
Remember that you made me like clay;
and will you turn me back to dust?
Did you not pour me out like milk
and curdle me like cheese?
You clothed me with skin and flesh
and knit me together with bones and sinews.

You granted me life and steadfast love,
and your care has guarded my spirit.
Yet these things you hid in your heart;
I know that this was your purpose:
if I sinned, you would watch me
and not hold me innocent of my iniquity.
If I am guilty, woe to me! And if I am in the right, I cannot lift my head,
filled with shame and seeing my affliction.

If I hold my head high, you hunt me like a lion
and again show your wondrous power against me.
You bring fresh witnesses against me and increase your anger toward me;
troops come against me wave after wave.
Why did you bring me out of the womb?
I should have died, and no eye would have seen me.
I would have been as though I had never been,
carried from the womb to the grave.

Are not my days few? Then stop!
Turn away from me, so that I may have a little cheer
before I go, never to return,
to the land of darkness and deep shadow,
a land of gloom like blackness, of deep shadow and no order,
where the light itself is like blackness.

and tell you the secrets of wisdom, for sound wisdom has two sides!
Know then that God is overlooking some of your iniquity.
Can you find out the depths of God?
Can you find out the limit of Shaddai?
It is higher than the heavens—what can you do?
Deeper than Sheol—what can you know?note

Its measure is longer than the earth
and broader than the sea.
If he sweeps by and locks someone up
and summons the court, who can turn him back?
For he knows worthless people;
when he sees iniquity, will he not take note of it?
But a hollow man will gain understanding
when a wild donkey’s colt is born human.

If you set your heart right
and stretch out your hands toward him,
if there is iniquity in your hand, put it far away,
and do not let injustice dwell in your tents.
Then you will lift up your face without blemish;
you will be firm and will not fear.
You will forget your trouble;
you will remember it like waters that have flowed past.

Your life will rise brighter than noonday;
its darkness will be like the morning.
You will be confident, because there is hope;
you will look around and lie down in safety.
You will lie down, and no one will make you afraid;
many will seek your favor.
But the eyes of the wicked will fail;
every way of escape will be lost to them,
and their hope will be to breathe their last.

Those at ease hold misfortune in contempt,
ready for those whose feet slip.
The tents of robbers are at peace, and those who provoke God are secure,
those who carry their god in their hand.
But ask the beasts, and they will teach you,
the birds of the sky, and they will tell you.note

Or speak to the earth, and it will teach you;
the fish of the sea will recount it to you.
Who among all these does not know
that the hand of the LORD has done this?
In his hand is the life of every living thing,
and the breath of every human body.note

Does not the ear test words
as the palate tastes food?
Wisdom is with the aged,
and understanding in length of days.
With him are wisdom and might;
counsel and understanding are his.
Look, he tears down, and it cannot be rebuilt;
he shuts a person in, and no one can open.

Look, he holds back the waters, and they dry up;
he sends them out, and they overwhelm the land.
With him are strength and sound wisdom;
the deceived and the deceiver are his.
He leads counselors away stripped
and makes fools of judges.

He loosens the bonds of kings
and binds a loincloth around their waists.
He leads priests away stripped
and overthrows those long established.
He deprives the trusted of speech
and takes away the discernment of the elders.
He pours contempt on nobles
and loosens the belt of the strong.

He uncovers deep things out of darkness
and brings deep shadow into the light.
He makes nations great, then destroys them;
he spreads nations out, then leads them away.
He strips the leaders of the earth’s people of their understanding
and makes them wander in a trackless waste.
They grope in darkness without light;
he makes them stagger like a drunkard.

If only you would keep completely silent;
that would be your wisdom!
Hear now my argument,
and listen to the pleadings of my lips.
Will you speak falsely for God
and speak deceitfully for him?
Will you show him partiality?
Will you plead the case for God?

Will it go well with you when he examines you?
Or can you deceive him as one deceives a mortal?
He will surely rebuke you
if in secret you show partiality.
Will not his majesty terrify you,
and dread of him fall upon you?
Your maxims are proverbs of ash;
your defenses are defenses of clay.

Be silent before me, and let me speak,
and let come on me what may.
Why should I take my flesh in my teeth
and put my life in my hand?
Look, though he kill me, I will wait for him;
yet I will argue my ways to his face.
This too will be my salvation,
that no godless person can come before him.note

Listen carefully to my words,
and let my declaration ring in your ears.
Look now, I have prepared my case;
I know that I will be vindicated.
Who is there who will bring a case against me?
For then I would be silent and die.
Only grant me two things,
and then I will not hide from your face.

Withdraw your hand far from me,
and do not let dread of you terrify me.
Then call, and I will answer;
or let me speak, and you reply to me.
How many are my iniquities and sins?
Make me know my offense and my sin.
Why do you hide your face
and count me as your enemy?note

Will you frighten a windblown leaf
and pursue dry chaff?
For you write bitter things against me
and make me inherit the iniquities of my youth.
You put my feet in the stocks and watch all my paths;
you mark the soles of my feet.
One wastes away like something rotten,
like a garment eaten by moths.

Since his days are determined, and the number of his months is with you,
and you have set him limits he cannot pass,
look away from him and let him be,
until, like a hired worker, he finishes his day.
For there is hope for a tree:
if it is cut down, it will sprout again,
and its shoots will not fail.

Though its root grows old in the ground
and its stump dies in the dust,
at the scent of water it will bud
and put out branches like a young plant.
But a man dies and lies powerless;
a human breathes his last, and where is he?
As waters vanish from a lake,
and a river runs dry and is parched,

so a person lies down and does not rise;
until the heavens are no more, they will not wake
or be roused from their sleep.
If only you would hide me in Sheol, conceal me until your anger has passed,
set me a fixed time, and then remember me!
If a man dies, will he live again?
All the days of my hard service I would wait
until my relief should come.

You would call, and I would answer you;
you would long for the work of your hands.
For then you would count my steps;
you would not keep watch over my sin.
My offense would be sealed up in a bag,
and you would cover over my iniquity.
But as a mountain falls and crumbles away,
and a rock is moved from its place,

as water wears away stones, and torrents wash away the soil of the earth,
so you destroy the hope of a mortal.
You overpower him forever, and he passes on;
you change his face and send him away.
His children come to honor, and he does not know it;
they are brought low, and he does not perceive it.
He feels only the pain of his own body,
and mourns only for himself.

Your own mouth condemns you, not I;
your own lips testify against you.
Were you born the first human being?
Were you brought forth before the hills?
Do you listen in on God’s council?
Do you keep wisdom to yourself?
What do you know that we do not know?
What do you understand that is not with us as well?

The gray-haired and the aged are among us,
older in years than your father.
Are the consolations of God too small for you,
or a word spoken gently to you?
Why does your heart carry you away,
and why do your eyes flash,
that you turn your spirit against God
and let such words out of your mouth?

What is a mortal, that he could be pure,
or one born of woman, that he could be righteous?
Look, God does not trust even his holy ones,
and the heavens are not pure in his eyes—
how much less one who is loathsome and corrupt,
a man who drinks wrongdoing like water!
I will tell you; listen to me,
and what I have seen I will recount—

what the wise have declared
without hiding what came from their fathers,
to whom alone the land was given,
when no stranger passed among them:
All his days the wicked man writhes in pain,
through all the years stored up for the tyrant.
The sound of terrors is in his ears;
in a time of peace the destroyer comes upon him.

He has no hope of returning from darkness,
and he is marked out for the sword.
He wanders for bread—where is it?
He knows that the day of darkness is ready at hand.
Distress and anguish terrify him;
they overpower him like a king poised for the attack.
For he stretched out his hand against God
and played the hero against Shaddai.

He charged at him with his neck stiff,
behind the thick bosses of his shields.
For he covered his face with his fat
and piled up flesh on his loins;
he settled in ruined cities, in houses where no one should live,
houses destined to be heaps of rubble.

He will not grow rich, and his wealth will not last,
nor will his possessions spread over the land.
He will not escape
from darkness; a flame will wither his shoots,
and he will pass away at the breath of his mouth.
Let him not trust in emptiness and be led astray,
for emptiness will be his reward.note

Before his day comes it will be paid in full,
and his branch will not be green.
He will be like a vine that sheds its unripe grapes,
like an olive tree that casts off its blossom.
For the company of the godless is barren,
and fire consumes the tents of bribery.
They conceive trouble and give birth to evil,
and their womb prepares deceit.

I could strengthen you with my mouth,
and the comfort of my lips would ease your pain.
If I speak, my pain is not eased,
and if I hold back, how much of it leaves me?
But now he has worn me out;
you have devastated my whole household.
You have shriveled me up, and it has become a witness;
my gauntness rises up against me and testifies to my face.

His anger has torn me, and he hates me; he has gnashed his teeth at me;
my enemy sharpens his eyes against me.
They have gaped at me with their mouths; they have struck my cheeks in scorn;
together they mass against me.
God hands me over to the unjust
and throws me into the hands of the wicked.

I was at ease, and he shattered me; he seized me by the neck and dashed me to pieces;
he set me up as his target.
His archers surround me; he pierces my kidneys and does not spare;
he pours out my gall on the ground.
He breaks through me, breach upon breach;
he rushes at me like a warrior.

I have sewn sackcloth over my skin
and thrust my horn into the dust.
My face is red with weeping,
and deep darkness lies on my eyelids,
though there is no violence in my hands
and my prayer is pure.
Earth, do not cover my blood;
let my cry find no resting place.note

Even now, look, my witness is in heaven,
and the one who vouches for me is on high.
My friends scorn me;
my eye drips tears to God,
that he would argue a man’s case with God,
as a human being does for his friend.
For only a few years will pass,
and I will go the way from which I will not return.note

One who denounces his friends for a share of the spoil—
the eyes of his children will fail.
He has made me a byword among peoples,
one in whose face they spit.
My eye has grown dim with grief,
and all my limbs are like a shadow.
The upright are appalled at this,
and the innocent stirs himself up against the godless.note

Yet the righteous holds to his way,
and the one with clean hands grows stronger.
But you—all of you, come back again,
and I will not find a wise man among you.
My days are past, my plans are torn apart,
the desires of my heart.
They turn night into day:
“Light is near,” they say, in the face of darkness.

If I hope for Sheol as my home,
if I spread my bed in darkness,
if I say to the Pit, “You are my father,”
and to the worm, “My mother,” and “My sister,”
where then is my hope?
And my hope—who will see it?
Will it go down to the bars of Sheol?
Shall we descend together into the dust?

The light grows dark in his tent,
and his lamp above him goes out.
His strong strides are hemmed in,
and his own scheme throws him down.
For his own feet thrust him into a net,
and he walks onto a mesh.
A trap seizes him by the heel;
a snare grips him tight.

A noose is hidden for him in the ground,
a trap for him on the path.
Terrors frighten him on every side
and chase him at his heels.
His strength is famished,
and disaster stands ready at his side.
It eats away the parts of his skin;
the firstborn of Death eats away his limbs.note

He is torn from the tent where he felt safe
and marched off to the king of terrors.
What is none of his dwells in his tent;
sulfur is scattered over his home.
Below, his roots dry up,
and above, his branches wither.
His memory perishes from the earth,
and he has no name in the street.note

He is thrust from light into darkness
and driven out of the world.
He has no offspring or descendant among his people,
no survivor where he once lived.
Those in the west are appalled at his day,
and those in the east are seized with horror.
Surely such are the dwellings of the unjust,
and this is the place of one who does not know God.

Look, I cry out, “Violence!” but I get no answer;
I call for help, but there is no justice.
He has walled up my way so that I cannot pass,
and he has set darkness on my paths.
He has stripped my glory from me
and taken the crown from my head.
He tears me down on every side, and I am gone;
he has uprooted my hope like a tree.

His anger burns against me;
he counts me as one of his enemies.
His troops come on together; they build their siege ramp against me
and camp all around my tent.
He has put my brothers far from me;
my acquaintances are wholly estranged from me.
My relatives have failed me,
and my close friends have forgotten me.

The guests in my house and my maidservants count me a stranger;
I have become a foreigner in their eyes.
I call to my servant, but he does not answer;
I must plead with him with my own mouth.
My breath is repulsive to my wife,
and I am loathsome to my own brothers.
Even young children despise me;
when I get up, they talk against me.

All my intimate friends abhor me,
and those I loved have turned against me.
My bones cling to my skin and my flesh,
and I have escaped by the skin of my teeth.
Have pity on me, have pity on me, you my friends,
for the hand of God has struck me!
Why do you pursue me as God does?
Will you never have enough of my flesh?

whom I myself will see, whom my own eyes will behold, and not a stranger.
My insides waste away within me!
If you say, “How we will hound him!”
and “The root of the matter is found in him,”
then be afraid of the sword yourselves, for wrath brings the punishments of the sword,
so that you may know there is a judgment.note

Though his pride rises up to the heavens
and his head reaches the clouds,
he will perish forever like his own dung;
those who saw him will say, “Where is he?”
He will fly away like a dream and not be found;
he will be chased away like a vision of the night.
The eye that glimpsed him will see him no more,
and his place will look on him no more.

His children will seek the favor of the poor,
and his own hands will give back his wealth.
His bones were full of youthful vigor,
but it will lie down with him in the dust.
Though evil tastes sweet in his mouth,
though he hides it under his tongue,
though he savors it and will not let it go,
and keeps it back in his mouth,

his food turns sour in his stomach;
it becomes the venom of cobras within him.
He swallowed riches, and he vomits them up;
God drives them out of his belly.
He will suck the poison of cobras;
the viper’s tongue will kill him.
He will not look upon the streams,
the rivers flowing with honey and curds.

He gives back what he toiled for and does not swallow it;
he does not enjoy the profit of his trading.
For he crushed and abandoned the poor;
he seized a house he did not build.
Because he knew no contentment in his belly,
he will not escape with what he desires.

Nothing was left over after he had eaten;
therefore his prosperity will not endure.
In the fullness of his plenty he will be in distress;
the full force of misery will come upon him.
When he is about to fill his belly, he will send his burning anger against him
and rain it down on him as his food.

He flees from an iron weapon;
a bronze bow pierces him through.
He draws it out, and it comes out of his back;
the glittering point comes out of his gallbladder;
terrors come upon him.
Utter darkness lies in wait for his treasures;
a fire not fanned will devour him;
it will consume what is left in his tent.

The heavens will reveal his guilt,
and the earth will rise up against him.
The produce of his house will be carried off,
swept away on the day of his anger.
This is the wicked man’s portion from God,
the inheritance decreed for him by God.

When I think of it, I am dismayed,
and shuddering seizes my flesh.
Why do the wicked live on,
grow old, and even grow mighty in power?
Their offspring are established in their presence,
and their descendants before their eyes.
Their houses are safe from fear,
and no rod of God is upon them.

Their bull breeds without fail;
their cow calves and does not miscarry.
They send out their little ones like a flock,
and their children dance.
They sing to the tambourine and the lyre
and rejoice at the sound of the pipe.
They spend their days in prosperity,
and in a moment they go down to Sheol.

They say to God, “Leave us alone!
We have no desire to know your ways.
What is Shaddai, that we should serve him?
What would we gain by praying to him?”
Look, their prosperity is not in their own hands;
the counsel of the wicked is far from me.

How often is the lamp of the wicked put out? How often does disaster come upon them,
does he deal out pains in his anger?
How often are they like straw before the wind,
like chaff that the storm carries off?
God stores up a man’s guilt for his children?
Let him pay the man himself back, so that he knows it!

Let his own eyes see his ruin,
and let him drink of the wrath of Shaddai.
For what does he care about his household after him,
when the number of his months is cut off?
Can anyone teach God knowledge,
seeing that he judges those on high?
One person dies in full vigor,
wholly at ease and secure,

his pails full of milk
and the marrow of his bones moist.
Another dies with a bitter soul,
never having tasted good things.
Together they lie down in the dust,
and worms cover them both.
Look, I know your thoughts,
the schemes by which you would wrong me.note

For you say, “Where is the house of the nobleman?
Where is the tent where the wicked lived?”
Have you not asked those who travel the roads?
Do you not accept their testimony,
that the evil man is spared on the day of disaster,
that he is led to safety on the day of wrath?

Who will denounce his way to his face?
Who will repay him for what he has done?
He is carried to the grave,
and a watch is kept over his tomb.
The clods of the valley are sweet to him;
everyone follows after him,
and those who went before him are without number.
How then can you comfort me with empty breath?
Your answers are nothing but betrayal.

For you have taken pledges from your brothers for nothing
and stripped the naked of their clothing.
You have given no water to the weary
and withheld bread from the hungry.
The man with power owned the land,
and the favored man lived in it.
You have sent widows away empty-handed,
and the arms of the orphans were crushed.

That is why snares are all around you
and sudden terror dismays you,
or darkness, so that you cannot see,
and a flood of water covers you.
Is not God high in the heavens?
See the highest stars, how lofty they are!
Yet you say, “What does God know?
Can he judge through the thick darkness?

Thick clouds veil him so that he does not see,
as he walks on the circle of the heavens.”
Will you keep to the ancient path
that wicked men have trodden?
They were snatched away before their time;
their foundation was washed away by a river.
They said to God, “Leave us alone!”
and “What can Shaddai do to us?”

Yet it was he who filled their houses with good things—
but the counsel of the wicked is far from me.
The righteous see it and are glad,
and the innocent mock them:
“Surely our foes are destroyed,
and fire has consumed what they left.”
Come to terms with him and be at peace;
in this way good will come to you.note

Accept teaching from his mouth
and lay up his words in your heart.
If you return to Shaddai, you will be restored;
if you put wrongdoing far from your tent,
if you lay your gold in the dust
and the gold of Ophir among the stones of the streams,
then Shaddai will be your gold
and your silver piled high.note

For then you will delight in Shaddai
and lift up your face to God.
You will pray to him, and he will hear you,
and you will fulfill your vows.
You will decide on a matter, and it will be done for you,
and light will shine on your ways.
When they are brought low, you will say, “Up!”
and he will save the downcast.
He will rescue even one who is not innocent;
he will be rescued through the cleanness of your hands.note

Would he contend with me in his great power?
No, he would surely pay attention to me.
There an upright person could reason with him,
and I would be acquitted by my judge forever.
Look, I go east, but he is not there;
west, but I do not perceive him;
north, where he is at work, but I do not catch sight of him;
he turns south, but I do not see him.

Yet he knows the way I take;
if he tested me, I would come out like gold.
My foot has held fast to his steps;
I have kept his way and not turned aside.
I have not departed from the command of his lips;
I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.
But he stands alone, and who can turn him back?
What he desires, that he does.

For he will carry out what he has decreed for me,
and many such things are in his mind.
That is why I am terrified in his presence;
when I consider, I am afraid of him.
God has made my heart faint;
Shaddai has terrified me.
Yet I am not silenced by the darkness,
nor by the thick gloom that covers my face.

Look, like wild donkeys in the wilderness, they go out to their work, searching for food;
the desert gives them bread for their children.
They harvest fodder in the field
and glean in the vineyard of the wicked.
They spend the night naked, without clothing,
with no covering against the cold.

They are drenched by the mountain rains
and cling to the rock for want of shelter.
The fatherless child is snatched from the breast,
and they take pledges from the poor.
They go about naked, without clothing;
hungry, they carry the sheaves.
Between the terraces they press out oil;
they tread the winepresses yet go thirsty.

From the city people groan, and the throats of the wounded cry for help,
yet God pays no heed to the outrage.
These are among those who rebel against the light;
they do not know its ways
and do not stay in its paths.
At first light the murderer rises; he kills the poor and the needy,
and in the night he is like a thief.

The adulterer’s eye watches for twilight, thinking, “No eye will see me,”
and he puts a cover over his face.
In the dark they dig through houses;
by day they shut themselves in;
they do not know the light.
For to all of them morning is deep darkness;
they are friends with the terrors of deep darkness.

He is swift on the face of the waters; their portion in the land is cursed;
no one turns toward their vineyards.
Drought and heat snatch away the snow waters;
so Sheol snatches those who have sinned.
The womb forgets him; the worm feeds sweetly on him; he is remembered no more;
so wrongdoing is broken like a tree.
He preys on the barren woman who bears no children
and does no good to the widow.note

Yet he drags off the mighty by his power;
they rise up, but have no assurance of life.
He gives them security, and they rely on it,
but his eyes are on their ways.
They are exalted a little while, and then are gone; they are brought low and gathered up like everything else;
they wither like the heads of grain.
If it is not so, who will prove me a liar
and show that my words are worth nothing?

He stretches out the north over the void
and hangs the earth upon nothing.
He wraps up the waters in his thick clouds,
and the cloud does not burst beneath them.
He covers the face of the full moon
and spreads his cloud over it.
He has marked out a circle on the face of the waters,
at the boundary between light and darkness.
The pillars of heaven tremble
and are astounded at his rebuke.note

By his power he stilled the sea;
by his understanding he struck down Rahab.
By his wind the heavens were made fair;
his hand pierced the fleeing serpent.
Look, these are but the fringes of his ways; how faint a whisper we hear of him!
But the thunder of his mighty deeds—who can understand it?note

I hold fast to my righteousness and will not let it go;
my heart does not reproach me for any of my days.
Let my enemy be like the wicked,
and my opponent like the unjust.
For what hope has the godless when he is cut off,
when God takes away his life?

Will God hear his cry
when distress comes upon him?
Will he delight in Shaddai?
Will he call upon God at all times?
I will teach you about the hand of God;
what is with Shaddai I will not conceal.
Look, all of you have seen it yourselves;
why then do you speak such empty vapor?

This is the wicked man’s portion from God,
the inheritance that tyrants receive from Shaddai:
If his children are many, they are for the sword,
and his offspring will not have enough bread.
Those who survive him are buried by plague,
and his widows do not weep.note

Though he heaps up silver like dust
and piles up clothing like clay,
he may pile it up, but the righteous will wear it,
and the innocent will divide the silver.
He builds his house like a moth’s,
like a hut that a watchman makes.
He lies down rich, but will do so no more;
he opens his eyes, and it is gone.

Terrors overtake him like a flood;
in the night a storm carries him off.
The east wind lifts him up, and he is gone;
it sweeps him from his place.
It hurls itself at him without pity,
as he flees headlong from its power.
It claps its hands at him
and hisses at him from its place.

He opens a shaft far from where people live, in places forgotten by any foot;
far from humans they dangle and sway.
The earth—out of it comes bread,
but underneath it is turned up as by fire.
Its stones are the place of sapphires,
and it holds dust of gold.
That path no bird of prey knows,
and the falcon’s eye has not seen it.note

Proud beasts have not trodden it;
the lion has not passed over it.
He puts his hand to the flint
and overturns mountains by the roots.
He cuts channels in the rocks,
and his eye sees every precious thing.
He dams up the sources of the rivers
and brings hidden things to light.

It cannot be paid for with the gold of Ophir,
with precious onyx or sapphire.
Gold and glass cannot equal it,
nor can it be exchanged for vessels of fine gold.
Coral and crystal are not worth mentioning;
the price of wisdom is above pearls.
The topaz of Cush cannot equal it;
it cannot be paid for with pure gold.note

When he gave the wind its weight
and measured out the waters,
when he made a decree for the rain
and a path for the thunderbolt,
then he saw it and declared it;
he established it and searched it out.
And he said to humankind, “Look, the fear of the Lord—that is wisdom,
and to turn away from evil is understanding.”

when my steps were bathed in cream
and the rock poured out streams of oil for me,
when I went out to the gate of the town
and took my seat in the square!
The young men saw me and stepped aside,
and the old men rose and stood.
Princes held back their words
and laid their hands on their mouths.

The voices of the nobles were hushed,
and their tongues stuck to the roofs of their mouths.
For the ear that heard me called me blessed,
and the eye that saw me bore witness for me,
because I rescued the poor who cried for help,
and the orphan who had no one to help him.
The blessing of the one about to perish came upon me,
and I made the widow’s heart sing.

I put on righteousness, and it clothed me;
my justice was like a robe and a turban.
I was eyes to the blind
and feet to the lame.
I was a father to the needy,
and I investigated the case of the one I did not know.
I broke the fangs of the unjust
and snatched the prey from his teeth.
I thought, “I will die in my nest,
and I will multiply my days like the sand.”note

My roots spread out to the water,
with the dew all night on my branches.
My glory was always fresh with me,
and my bow ever new in my hand.
People listened to me and waited
and kept silent for my counsel.
After I spoke they did not speak again,
and my words fell on them like drops.

They waited for me as for the rain
and opened their mouths as for the spring rain.
I smiled at them when they had no confidence,
and they did not cast down the light of my face.
I chose their way and sat as their chief;
I lived like a king among his troops,
like one who comforts mourners.

They pluck saltwort among the bushes,
and the roots of the broom tree are their food.
They are driven out from human company;
people shout after them as after a thief.
They must live in the gullies of the wadis,
in holes in the ground and among the rocks.
Among the bushes they bray;
under the nettles they huddle together.
A senseless brood, a nameless brood,
they have been whipped out of the land.

And now I have become their song;
I have become a byword to them.
They abhor me; they keep their distance from me;
they do not hold back from spitting in my face.
Because he has loosened my bowstring and humbled me,
they have cast off restraint in my presence.
On my right the rabble rise up;
they push my feet aside
and build their roads of ruin against me.

They break up my path;
they profit from my ruin;
they need no one to help them.
As through a wide breach they come;
amid the crash they roll on.
Terrors are turned upon me;
my dignity is chased away like the wind,
and my safety has passed away like a cloud.

And now my life is poured out within me;
days of affliction have seized me.
At night my bones are pierced within me,
and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
With great force my garment is disfigured;
it binds me like the collar of my tunic.
He has thrown me into the mud,
and I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry to you, and you do not answer me;
I stand, and you merely look at me.
You have turned cruel to me;
with the might of your hand you persecute me.
You lift me up on the wind and make me ride it,
and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
I know that you will bring me to death,
to the house appointed for all the living.

Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out a hand,
and in his disaster cry for help?
Did I not weep for one whose day was hard?
Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
But when I hoped for good, evil came;
when I waited for light, darkness came.
My insides are in turmoil and never still;
days of affliction confront me.note

I go about blackened, but not by the sun;
I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
I have become a brother to jackals
and a companion to ostriches.
My skin turns black and peels from me,
and my bones burn with fever.
My lyre is turned to mourning,
and my pipe to the sound of weepers.

If I have walked with falsehood,
if my foot has hurried toward deceit—
let him weigh me on honest scales,
and God will know my integrity!—
if my steps have turned aside from the path,
if my heart has followed my eyes,
if any stain has clung to my hands,

It would be a fire that consumes all the way to Abaddon,
and it would uproot all my harvest.
If I have rejected the case of my male or female servant
when they brought a dispute against me,
what would I do when God rose up?
When he called me to account, what would I answer him?

Did not the one who made me in the womb make him too?
Did not the same one form us in the womb?
If I have denied the poor what they wanted,
or let a widow’s eyes grow dim with longing,
or eaten my morsel of bread alone
without the orphan eating from it—
for from my youth he grew up with me as with a father,
and from my mother’s womb I guided her—note

if I have seen anyone perishing for lack of clothing,
or a needy person with nothing to cover him,
and his loins did not bless me,
warmed by the fleece of my sheep;
if I have raised my hand against an orphan
because I saw I had support at the gate—
then let my shoulder fall from its socket,
and my arm be broken off at the elbow.

For disaster from God was a terror to me,
and before his majesty I could do nothing.
If I have made gold my trust,
or called fine gold my security;
if I have rejoiced that my wealth was great,
that my hand had gained so much;

if I have looked at the sun as it shone,
or the moon moving in splendor,
and my heart was secretly enticed,
and my hand blew them a kiss from my mouth—
that too would be an offense for the judges,
for I would have denied God above;
if I have rejoiced at the ruin of the one who hated me,
or gloated when evil found him—note

but I did not let my mouth sin
by asking for his life with a curse;
if the men of my tent have not said,
“Who can find anyone who has not had his fill of his meat?”—
no stranger spent the night outside;
I opened my doors to the traveler—
if I have hidden my wrongs as humans do,
burying my guilt in my bosom,note

because I feared the great crowd, and the contempt of the clans terrified me,
so that I kept quiet and did not go out of my door—
Oh, that I had someone to hear me! Here is my signature: let Shaddai answer me!
Let my opponent write out his indictment!
Surely I would carry it on my shoulder;
I would bind it on me like a crown.note

I would give him an account of my every step;
like a prince I would approach him.
If my land has cried out against me,
and its furrows have wept together;
if I have eaten its produce without paying,
or made its owners breathe their last—
then let thorns grow instead of wheat, and stinking weeds instead of barley.

Now Elihu had waited before speaking to Job, because they were older than he was. But when Elihu saw that there was no answer in the mouths of the three men, he became angry.

It is not the aged who are wise,
nor the old who understand what is right.
So I say, “Listen to me;
let me too tell what I know.”
Look, I waited for your words; I listened for your insights
while you searched for what to say.

I paid close attention to you,
and there was no one to prove Job wrong,
not one of you who answered his words.
Do not say, “We have found wisdom;
let God rout him, not a human.”
He has not set out his words against me,
and I will not answer him with your arguments.

They are dismayed; they answer no more;
words have deserted them.
Must I wait, because they do not speak,
because they stand there and answer no more?
I too will give my answer;
I too will tell what I know.
For I am full of words;
the spirit within me presses me.

My belly is like wine with no vent;
like new wineskins it is ready to burst.
Let me speak and find relief;
let me open my lips and answer.
I will not show partiality to anyone,
or flatter any human being.
For I do not know how to flatter—
else my Maker would soon carry me off.

Answer me if you can;
set out your case before me; take your stand.
Look, before God I am just as you are;
I too was pinched off from clay.
So no fear of me need terrify you;
my pressure will not weigh heavily on you.
But you have said in my hearing—
I heard the sound of your words—

“I am pure, without transgression;
I am clean,
and there is no guilt in me.
Yet he finds pretexts against me;
he counts me as his enemy.
He puts my feet in the stocks;
he watches all my paths.”
In this you are not in the right—I will answer you—
for God is greater than any mortal.

Why do you bring a case against him,
saying he answers none of your words?
For God speaks in one way,
and in two, though no one perceives it:
in a dream, a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on people,
as they slumber on their beds.
Then he opens people’s ears
and seals their warning,

to turn a person from his deeds
and to cover a man’s pride.
He keeps back his life from the Pit,
his very being from crossing the River.
He is also rebuked with pain on his bed,
with ceaseless strife in his bones,
so that his very being loathes bread,
and his appetite the choicest food.note

His flesh wastes away until it can no longer be seen,
and his bones, once hidden, stick out.
His life draws near to the Pit,
his very being to those who bring death.
If there is an angel beside him, a mediator, one in a thousand,
to vouch for a person’s uprightness,

and he is gracious to him and says, “Spare him from going down to the Pit;
I have found a ransom”—
then his flesh grows fresher than a child’s;
he returns to the days of his youth.
He prays to God, who accepts him; he sees God’s face with a shout of joy,
and God restores to the person his righteousness.

He sings out before others and says, “I sinned and twisted what was right,
and it was not repaid to me.”
He has redeemed his life from passing into the Pit,
and his life will look upon the light.
Look, God does all these things,
twice, three times, with a person,

to bring his life back from the Pit,
so that he may be lit with the light of life.
Pay attention, Job, listen to me;
be silent, and I will speak.
If you have anything to say, answer me;
speak, for I would like to vindicate you.
If not, then listen to me;
be silent, and I will teach you wisdom.

What man is like Job,
who drinks up scorn like water,
who keeps company with evildoers
and walks with wicked men?
For he has said, “It profits a man nothing
to be in favor with God.”
So listen to me, you men of understanding:
far be it from God to do wickedness,
from Shaddai to do wrong!

For he repays a person for what he has done;
he brings on each one what his ways deserve.
Truly, God does not act wickedly;
Shaddai does not pervert justice.
Who put him in charge of the earth?
Who laid on him the whole world?
If he were to set his heart on it
and gather his spirit and breath back to himself,

all flesh would perish together,
and humankind would return to dust.
If you have understanding, hear this;
listen to the sound of my words.
Can one who hates justice govern?
Will you condemn the Righteous and Mighty One?
Does one say to a king, “Worthless!”
or to nobles, “Wicked!”?

He shows no partiality to princes and does not favor the rich over the poor,
for they are all the work of his hands.
In a moment they die, at midnight;
people are shaken and pass away,
and the mighty are removed by no human hand.
For his eyes are on a person’s ways;
he sees all his steps.

There is no darkness, no deep shadow,
where evildoers can hide.
For he need not set a time for anyone
to come before God in judgment.
He shatters the mighty without inquiry
and sets others in their place.

So he knows their deeds;
he overturns them in the night, and they are crushed.
He strikes them down for their wickedness
where everyone can see,
because they turned away from following him
and paid no heed to any of his ways,
so that they brought the cry of the poor before him,
and he hears the cry of the afflicted.

If he stays quiet, who can condemn him? If he hides his face, who can see him?
Yet he watches over nation and person alike,
so that the godless may not reign,
and there be no snares for the people.
For has anyone said to God, “I have borne punishment;
I will offend no more.note

“Teach me what I cannot see;
if I have done wrong, I will not do it again”?
Should he repay you on your terms, when you have rejected him? For you must choose, and not I;
so tell us what you know.
People of understanding will say to me,
and any wise man who hears me:

“Job speaks without knowledge;
his words are without insight.”
Would that Job were tried to the end
for answering like evil men!
For he adds rebellion to his sin; he claps his hands among us
and multiplies his words against God.

If you sin, what do you do to him?
If your transgressions are many, what do you do to him?
If you are in the right, what do you give him?
Or what does he receive from your hand?
Your wickedness affects someone like yourself,
and your righteousness a fellow human.
Under the weight of oppression people cry out;
they call for help against the arm of the mighty.

But no one says, “Where is God my Maker,
who gives songs in the night,
who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth
and makes us wiser than the birds of the sky?”
There they cry out, but he does not answer,
because of the pride of the wicked.
Surely God does not hear an empty cry;
Shaddai does not regard it.

How much less when you say you do not see him,
that the case is before him, and you are waiting for him!
And now, because his anger does not punish,
and he takes little note of folly,
Job opens his mouth in empty talk
and multiplies words without knowledge.note

He does not keep the wicked alive,
but gives the afflicted their justice.
He does not take his eyes off the righteous;
with kings on the throne
he seats them forever, and they are exalted.
And if they are bound in chains,
caught in the cords of affliction,
he declares to them what they have done,
their transgressions, that they have acted arrogantly.

He opens their ears to discipline
and tells them to turn back from evil.
If they listen and serve him,
they will complete their days in prosperity
and their years in delight.
But if they do not listen, they will cross the River
and die for lack of knowledge.
The godless in heart harbor anger;
they do not cry for help when he binds them.

They die in their youth;
their life ends among the qedeshim.
He rescues the afflicted through their affliction
and opens their ears through distress.
He also lured you out of the jaws of distress into a broad place with no constraint beneath it,
and what was set on your table was full of rich food.
But you are full of the judgment due the wicked;
judgment and justice take hold of you.note

Beware that anger does not lure you into mockery,
and do not let a large bribe turn you aside.
Will your cry for help keep you out of distress,
or all your exertions of strength?
Do not long for the night,
when peoples vanish from their place.
Take care not to turn to evil,
for this you have chosen rather than affliction.note

Look, God is exalted in his power;
who is a teacher like him?
Who has prescribed his way for him,
or who can say, “You have done wrong”?
Remember to extol his work,
of which people have sung.
All humankind has looked on it;
mortals gaze at it from afar.

Look, God is great beyond our knowing;
the number of his years is past searching out.
For he draws up the drops of water;
they distill rain from his mist,
which the clouds pour down
and shower on humankind in abundance.
Can anyone understand how the clouds spread out,
the thunderings of his pavilion?

Look, he spreads his light around him
and covers the roots of the sea.
For by these he governs peoples;
he gives food in abundance.
He covers his hands with lightning
and commands it to strike the mark.
Its crash tells of him;
even the cattle tell of what is rising.note

God thunders wondrously with his voice;
he does great things beyond our knowing.
For to the snow he says, “Fall on the earth,”
and so to the shower of rain,
the showers of his mighty rain.
He seals up the hand of every person,
so that all whom he has made may know it.
Then the beasts go into their lairs
and stay in their dens.

From its chamber comes the storm,
and cold from the scattering winds.
By the breath of God ice is given,
and the broad waters are frozen hard.
He loads the clouds with moisture;
the clouds scatter his lightning.
They turn round and round by his guidance to do
all that he commands them over the face of the inhabited earth.

Whether as a rod, or for his land,
or for steadfast love, he brings it about.
Listen to this, Job;
stand still and consider the wonders of God.
Do you know how God lays his command on them
and makes the lightning of his cloud shine?
Do you know how the clouds are balanced,
the wonders of the one perfect in knowledge?

You whose clothes grow hot
when the earth lies still under the south wind,
can you, with him, spread out the skies,
hard as a mirror of cast metal?
Teach us what we should say to him;
we cannot set out our case because of darkness.
Should he be told that I want to speak?
Would anyone ask to be swallowed up?

And now no one can look at the light when it is bright in the skies,
when the wind has passed and swept them clean.
Out of the north comes golden splendor;
around God is awesome majesty.
Shaddai—we cannot find him; he is great in power,
and in justice and abundant righteousness he does not oppress.
Therefore people fear him;
he does not regard any who are wise in their own heart.

On what were its bases sunk,
or who laid its cornerstone,
when the morning stars sang together
and all the members of the divine court shouted for joy?
Who shut in the sea with doors
when it burst out, coming from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
and thick darkness its swaddling band,

when I fixed my limit for it
and set bars and doors,
and said, “This far you may come, and no farther;
here your proud waves must stop”?
Have you ever in your life commanded the morning,
or shown the dawn its place,
so that it might seize the edges of the earth
and shake the wicked out of it?

It is changed like clay under a seal,
and its features stand out like a garment.
The wicked are denied their light,
and the arm raised high is broken.
Have you gone down to the springs of the sea,
or walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been revealed to you?
Have you seen the gates of deep darkness?

Have you grasped the breadth of the earth?
Tell me, if you know all this.
Where is the way to where light dwells,
and darkness—where is its place,
that you might take it to its territory
and know the paths to its home?
You know, for you were born then,
and the number of your days is great!

Have you entered the storehouses of the snow,
or seen the storehouses of the hail,
which I have kept for a time of trouble,
for a day of battle and war?
What is the way to where the light is divided,
where the east wind is scattered over the earth?
Who has cut a channel for the downpour,
and a way for the thunderbolt,

to bring rain on a land where no one lives,
on a wilderness with no human in it,
to satisfy the desolate wasteland
and make the ground sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father?
Or who fathered the drops of dew?
From whose womb did the ice come forth?
And the frost of the heavens—who gave birth to it?

The waters harden like stone,
and the face of the deep is frozen.
Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades,
or loosen the cords of Orion?
Can you lead out the Mazzaroth in their season,
or guide the Bear with her children?
Do you know the laws of the heavens?
Can you establish their rule on the earth?note

Can you raise your voice to the clouds,
so that a flood of water covers you?
Can you send out lightning bolts so that they go
and say to you, “Here we are”?
Who has put wisdom in the ibis,
or given understanding to the rooster?
Who can number the clouds by wisdom?
And who can tip over the water jars of the heavens,note

when the dust runs into a mass
and the clods stick together?
Can you hunt prey for the lioness,
or satisfy the appetite of the young lions,
when they crouch in their dens
and lie in wait in the thicket?
Who provides the raven its prey
when its young cry out to God
and wander about without food?

Who let the wild donkey go free?
Who untied the ropes of the onager,
to whom I gave the steppe as his home,
the salt flats as his dwelling?
He laughs at the commotion of the city;
he does not hear the shouts of the driver.

He ranges the mountains as his pasture
and searches after every green thing.
Is the wild ox willing to serve you?
Will he spend the night at your manger?
Can you tie the wild ox in the furrow with a rope?
Will he harrow the valleys behind you?
Will you rely on him because his strength is great,
and leave your labor to him?

Can you trust him to bring your grain home
and gather it to your threshing floor?
The ostrich’s wings flap joyfully,
but are they the pinions and plumage of the stork?
For she leaves her eggs on the ground
and lets them warm in the dust,
forgetting that a foot may crush them,
or a wild animal trample them.note

She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers;
she has no fear that her labor may be in vain,
for God has made her forget wisdom
and given her no share in understanding.
But when she rouses herself to run,
she laughs at the horse and its rider.
Do you give the horse its might?
Do you clothe its neck with a quivering mane?

Do you make it leap like a locust?
Its majestic snorting is terrifying.
It paws in the valley and exults in its strength;
it goes out to meet the weapons.
It laughs at fear and is not dismayed;
it does not turn back from the sword.
The quiver rattles against it,
the flashing spear and javelin.

With trembling and rage it swallows the ground;
it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.
At every blast of the trumpet it says, “Aha!” From far off it smells the battle,
the thunder of the commanders and the war cry.
Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars
and spreads its wings toward the south?

Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up
and builds its nest on high?
It dwells on the cliff and lodges there,
on a jagged crag, a stronghold.
From there it searches out food;
its eyes see it from far away.
Its young gulp down blood,
and where the slain are, there it is.

Look at everyone who is proud and humble him;
tread down the wicked where they stand.
Hide them all together in the dust;
bind their faces in the hidden place.
Then I myself will praise you,
for your own right hand can save you.
Look now at Behemoth, which I made just as I made you;
it eats grass like an ox.note

Look at the strength in its loins,
the power in the muscles of its belly.
It stiffens its tail like a cedar;
the sinews of its thighs are knit together.
Its bones are tubes of bronze,
its limbs like bars of iron.
It is the first of God’s works;
only its Maker can approach it with his sword.

For the mountains bring it their produce,
where all the wild animals play.
Under the lotus plants it lies,
hidden among the reeds and the marsh.
The lotus plants cover it with their shade;
the willows of the stream surround it.
If the river rages, it is not alarmed;
it is confident, though a Jordan should surge against its mouth.

Can anyone take it by its eyes,
or pierce its nose with snares?
Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook,
or press down its tongue with a cord?
Can you put a rope through its nose,
or pierce its jaw with a hook?
Will it plead with you at length?
Will it speak to you gently?note

Will it make a covenant with you,
so that you take it as your slave for life?
Will you play with it as with a bird,
or put it on a leash for your girls?
Will traders bargain over it?
Will they divide it up among the merchants?
Can you fill its hide with harpoons,
or its head with fishing spears?
Lay your hand on it—
remember the battle; you will not do it again!note

Who can strip off its outer garment?
Who can come at it with a double bridle?
Who can open the doors of its face?
All around its teeth is terror.
Its pride is its rows of shields,
shut up tight as with a seal.
One is so close to the next
that no air can come between them.

They are joined each to the other;
they cling together and cannot be parted.
Its sneezes flash out light,
and its eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn.
From its mouth go flaming torches;
sparks of fire leap out.
Smoke pours from its nostrils,
as from a boiling pot over burning rushes.
Its breath sets coals ablaze,
and a flame comes out of its mouth.

Strength lodges in its neck,
and dismay dances before it.
The folds of its flesh cling together,
firmly cast on it, immovable.
Its heart is as hard as stone,
hard as the lower millstone.
When it rises up, the mighty are afraid;
at the crashing they are beside themselves.note

Though the sword reaches it, it does not prevail,
nor the spear, the dart, or the lance.
It counts iron as straw,
bronze as rotten wood.
The arrow cannot make it flee;
slingstones turn to stubble for it.
Clubs are counted as stubble;
it laughs at the rattle of the javelin.

Its underside is jagged potsherds;
it spreads itself like a threshing sledge on the mud.
It makes the depths boil like a pot;
it makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
Behind it, it leaves a shining wake;
one would think the deep had white hair.
On earth there is nothing like it,
a creature made without fear.
It looks down on everything that is lofty;
it is king over all the proud beasts.

“So now take seven bulls and seven rams, go to my servant Job, and offer a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, for I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.”

So Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite went and did as the LORD had told them, and the LORD accepted Job’s prayer. And the LORD restored Job’s fortunes when he prayed for his friends, and the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before.

Then all his brothers and all his sisters and everyone who had known him before came to him and ate bread with him in his house. They showed him sympathy and comforted him for all the evil that the LORD had brought on him, and each of them gave him a piece of money and a gold ring.note

He named the first Jemimah, the second Keziah, and the third Keren-happuch. In all the land no women were found as beautiful as Job’s daughters, and their father gave them an inheritance along with their brothers.note