Job 17:15
Where is then now my hope? or who hath considered the thing that I loke for?
Where is then now my hope? or who hath considered the thing that I loke for?
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13 Though I tary neuer so much, yet the graue is my house, & I haue made my bed in the darke.
14 I saide to corruption, thou art my father, and to the wormes, you are my mother and my sister.
16 These shall go downe with me into the pit, and lye with me in the dust.
17 He hath put my soule out of rest, I forget all good thinges.
18 I thought in my selfe, I am vndone, there is no hope for me in the Lorde.
11 For what powre haue I to endure? And what is myne end, that my soule might be patient?
7 And nowe Lord what wayte I after? truely my hope is euen in thee.
5 My fleshe is clothed with wormes and dust of the earth: my skinne is withered and become horrible.
6 My dayes passe ouer more spedyly then a weauers shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7 O remember that my lyfe is but a winde, and that myne eye shall no more see pleasures:
8 Yea and the eye that hath seene me, shal see me no more: for yer thou fasten thyne eye vpon me, I come to naught.
1 My breath is corrupt, my dayes are shortened, I am harde at deathes doore.
9 Beholde his hope is in vaine: for shall not one perishe euen at the sight of him?
10 He hath destroyed me on euery side and I am gone: my hope hath he taken away as a tree pluckt vp by the roote.
15 For on thee O God I haue wayted: thou shalt aunswere for me O Lorde my God.
18 Wherfore hast thou brought me out of the wombe? O that I had perished, and that no eye had seene me,
19 And that I were as though I had not ben, but brought from the wombe to the graue.
20 Are not my dayes fewe? Let him then leaue of fro me, and let me a lone, that I may comfort my selfe a litle,
21 Afore I go thyther from whence I shall not turne againe, euen to the lande of darknesse and shadowe of death:
13 Is it not so that there is in me no helpe? & that my substaunce is taken from me?
13 O that thou wouldest hide me in the graue, & keepe me secret vntyl thy wrath were past, and to appoynt me a time wherein thou mightest remember me.
14 May a dead man lyue againe? All the dayes of my lyfe wyll I wayte still, till my chaunging shall come.
13 So are the pathes of al that forget God, and the hypocrites hope shall come to naught.
14 His confidence shalbe destroyed, and his trust shalbe a spiders webbe.
8 For what hope hath the hypocrite though he haue great good, if God take away his soule?
26 And though after my skinne the wormes destroy this body, yet shall I see God in my fleshe:
27 Whom I my selfe shall see, and myne eyes shall beholde, and none other for me, though my raines are consumed within me.
21 Why doest thou not pardon my trespasses, and take away myne iniquitie? Behold, nowe must I sleepe in the dust, and if thou sekest me to morowe in the morning, I shal not be.
9 Saying what profite is there in my blood when I go downe to the pit? shal the dust geue thankes vnto thee? or shall it declare thy trueth?
7 Myne eye is dimme for very heauinesse, and all my strength is lyke a shadowe.
18 Wherefore came I foorth of my mothers wombe? to haue experience of labour and sorowe, and to leade my lyfe with shame?
21 Whyle I consider these thinges in my heart, I get a hope agayne.
19 He hath cast me into the myre, and I am become like asshes and dust.
6 Was not thy feare according to thy hope? and the perfectnesse of thy wayes according to thy expectation?
11 My dayes are past, and my counsailes and thoughtes of my heart are vanished away,
15 Beholde, these men say vnto me, where is the worde of the Lorde? let it come nowe.
15 Lo, though he slay me, yet wyl I trust in him: but I wyll reproue myne owne wayes in his sight.
7 For if a tree be cut downe, there is some hope yet that it wyll sproute and shoote foorth the braunches againe.
20 As for the eyes of the vngodly they shall faile, and they shal not escape: and their hope shalbe sorowe of minde.
47 Remember what I am, howe short my tyme is of lyfe: wherfore hast thou created in vayne all the sonnes of men?
7 When an vngodly man dyeth, his hope is gone: the confidence of riches shall perishe.
17 Be not thou terrible vnto me O Lord: for thou art he in whom I hope when I am in perill.
15 I haue sowed a sackecloth vpon my skinne, and wallowed my head in the dust.
16 My face is withered with weeping, & in mine eyes is the shadowe of death.
18 I woulde haue had comfort against sorowe: but sorowe is come vpon me, and heauinesse vexeth my heart.
3 Doest thou open thyne eyes vpon such one, and bringest me into thy iudgement?
11 I spake within my selfe, I wyll neuer visite the Lorde the Lorde I say in this lyfe: I wyll neuer see man among the dwellers of the worlde.
5 For thou O Lorde God art the thyng that I long for: thou art my hope euen from my youth.
19 Then shewe me the way where light dwelleth, & where is the place of darkenesse?
19 The waters pearse through the very stones by litle & litle, the floodes washe away the grauell and earth: so shalt thou destroy the hope of man.