Post by 1MAM4f…iohE

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.

So that they dwell in frightful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks.

They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.

They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, `Even' men that have no helper.

Upon my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.

`They are' children of fools, yea, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land.

They are driven forth from the midst `of men'; They cry after them as after a thief;

Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished.

They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.

They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And spare not to spit in my face.

And now I am become their song, Yea, I am a byword unto them.

Among the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together.

As through a wide breach they come: In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves `upon me'.

For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.

Terrors are turned upon me; They chase mine honor as the wind; And my welfare is passed away as a cloud.

Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?

In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the `pains' that gnaw me take no rest.

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.

I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

By `God's' great force is my garment disfigured; It bindeth me about as the collar of my coat.

Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.

And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have taken hold upon me.

Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride `upon it'; And thou dissolvest me in the storm.

I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou gazest at me.

I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.

Therefore is my harp `turned' to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of them that weep.

My heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me.

Thou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me.

My skin is black, `and falleth' from me, And my bones are burned with heat.

When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness.