Job 17

My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.

My spirit is broken,
    my days are cut short,
    the grave awaits me.

Are there not mockers with me? and doth not mine eye continue in their provocation?

Surely mockers surround me;
    my eyes must dwell on their hostility.

Lay down now, put me in a surety with thee; who is he that will strike hands with me?

‘Give me, O God, the pledge you demand.
    Who else will put up security for me?

For thou hast hid their heart from understanding: therefore shalt thou not exalt them.

You have closed their minds to understanding;
    therefore you will not let them triumph.

He that speaketh flattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail.

If anyone denounces their friends for reward,
    the eyes of their children will fail.

He hath made me also a byword of the people; and aforetime I was as a tabret.

‘God has made me a byword to everyone,
    a man in whose face people spit.

Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow.

My eyes have grown dim with grief;
    my whole frame is but a shadow.

Upright men shall be astonied at this, and the innocent shall stir up himself against the hypocrite.

The upright are appalled at this;
    the innocent are aroused against the ungodly.

The righteous also shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger.

Nevertheless, the righteous will hold to their ways,
    and those with clean hands will grow stronger.

But as for you all, do ye return, and come now: for I cannot find one wise man among you.

‘But come on, all of you, try again!
    I will not find a wise man among you.

My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.

My days have passed, my plans are shattered.
    Yet the desires of my heart

They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness.

turn night into day;
    in the face of the darkness light is near.

If I wait, the grave is mine house: I have made my bed in the darkness.

If the only home I hope for is the grave,
    if I spread out my bed in the realm of darkness,

I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister.

if I say to corruption, “You are my father,”
    and to the worm, “My mother” or “My sister”.

And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it?

where then is my hope –
    who can see any hope for me?

They shall go down to the bars of the pit, when our rest together is in the dust.

Will it go down to the gates of death?
    Will we descend together into the dust?’