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If I have made gold my hope, And have said to the fine gold, `Thou art' my confidence;

If I have rejoiced because my wealth was great, And because my hand had gotten much;

If I have rejoiced at the destruction of him that hated me, Or lifted up myself when evil found him;

For calamity from God is a terror to me, And by reason of his majesty I can do nothing.

Then let my shoulder fall from the shoulder-blade, And mine arm be broken from the bone.

And my heart hath been secretly enticed, And my mouth hath kissed my hand:

If his loins have not blessed me, And if he hath not been warmed with the fleece of my sheep;

This also were an iniquity to be punished by the judges; For I should have denied the God that is above.

If I have beheld the sun when it shined, Or the moon walking in brightness,

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

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

I made a covenant with mine eyes; How then should I look upon a virgin?

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

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

Job 31

If I have withheld the poor from `their' desire, Or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail,

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

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

If I have seen any perish for want of clothing, Or that the needy had no covering;

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

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

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

What then shall I do when God riseth up? And when he visiteth, what shall I answer him?

Is it not calamity to the unrighteous, And disaster to the workers of iniquity?

Or have eaten my morsel alone, And the fatherless hath not eaten thereof;

Then let me sow, and let another eat; Yea, let the produce of my field be rooted out.

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

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

For it is a fire that consumeth unto Destruction, And would root out all mine increase.

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