Job 32:19
Beholde, my belly is as the wine, whiche hath no vent, lyke the newe bottels that bruste.
Beholde, my belly is as the wine, whiche hath no vent, lyke the newe bottels that bruste.
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18 For I am full of matter, and the spirite within me compelleth me.
20 Therfore will I speake, that I may haue a bent: I will open my lippes, and make aunswere.
37 And no man powreth newe wyne into olde vessels: For yf he do, the newe wyne wyll burst the vessels, and runne out it selfe, and the vessels shall perishe.
38 But newe wine must be put into newe vessels, and both are preserued.
39 No man also that drinketh olde wyne, strayghtway can awaye with newe: For he sayth, the olde is better.
22 And no man powreth newe wine into olde vessels: els the newe wine doth burst the vessels, and the wine runneth out, and the vessels are marred: But newe wine, must be put into newe vessels.
24 For my sighes come before I eate, and my roringes are powred out like the water:
14 I am as it were into water resolued, and all my bones are out of ioynt: my heart also is like waxe melted in the middest of my bowels.
15 My strength is dried vp like a potsheard, & my tongue cleaueth to my gummes: and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
17 Neither do men put newe wine into olde vessels: els, the vessels breake, and the wyne runneth out, and the vessels peryshe: But they put newe wyne, into newe vessels, and both are preserued together.
3 Therfore are my loynes fylled with sorowe, heauinesse hath taken holde vpon me as the panges of a woman that is trauaylyng: it made me stoupe when I heard it, and it vexed me when I sawe it.
7 The wine fayleth, the vine hath no myght, all they that haue ben mery of heart are come to mournyng.
13 And these bottelles of wine whiche we filled, were newe, and see they be rent: And these our garmentes and shoes are worne for oldenesse, by the reason of the exceeding long iourney.
18 He will not suffer me to take my breath, but filleth me with bitternesse.
14 I haue long holden my peace saith the Lorde I haue ben styll and refrained my selfe, but now I wyll crie like a trauayling woman, and at once wyll I destroy and deuour.
27 My bowels seethe in me without rest, for the dayes of my trouble are come vpon me.
10 So shall thy barnes be filled with plenteousnesse, and thy presses shall flowe ouer with sweete wine.
10 And the pitcher shalt thou breake in the sight of the men that goeth with thee,
34 Is not this layde in store with me, and sealed vp among my treasures?
7 For my loynes are filled with heate: and there is no whole part in my body.
8 I am feeble and sore smitten: I haue rored for the very disquietnesse of my heart.
9 Lorde thou knowest all my desire: and my gronyng is not hyd from thee.
12 Therfore lay this riddle before them, and say, Thus saith the Lorde God of Israel: Euery pot shalbe fylled with wine. And they shall say vnto thee. Thinkest thou we knowe not that euery pot shalbe fylled with wine?
24 His breastes are full of milke, and his bones runne full of marowe.
19 Ah my belly, ah my belly shalt thou crie, howe is my heart so sore? my heart panteth within me, I can not be styll, for I haue hearde the crying of the trumpettes, and peales of warre.
13 His archers compasse me rounde about, he woundeth my raines, and doth not spare, my bowels hath he powred vpon the grounde.
14 He hath geuen me one wounde vpon an other, and is fallen vpon me lyke a giaunt.
16 Therfore is my soule now powred out vpon me, and the dayes of my trouble haue taken hold vpon me.
21 Ueryly thus was my heart inflamed: thus was my reynes pricked.
9 Haue mercy vpon me O God, for I am in distresse: mine eye, my soule, and my belly be consumed for very heauinesse.
1 My breath is corrupt, my dayes are shortened, I am harde at deathes doore.
18 For the vehemencie of sorowe is my garment chaunged, whiche compasseth me about as the coller of my coote.
13 Beholde, I am pressed vnder you, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaues.
11 The poore are fayne to labour in their oyle mylles, yea and to treade in their wyne presses, and yet to suffer thirst.
11 Therfore I wil not spare my mouth, but I will speake in the trouble of my spirite, and muse in the bitternesse of my mynde.
6 Geue strong drynke vnto such as are redy to perishe, and wine vnto those that mourne:
2 Thy nauell is lyke a rounde goblet, which is neuer without drynke. Thy wombe is like a heape of wheate that is set about with lilies.
83 For I am become like a bottel hanged in the smoke: yet I do not forget thy statutes.
15 He hath filled me with bitternesse, and geuen me wormewood to drinke.
9 Wherefore I thought from hencefoorth not to speake of hym, nor to preache any more in his name: but the worde of the Lorde was a very burning fire in my heart and in my bones, whiche when I woulde haue stopped, I might not.
20 Consider (O Lorde) howe I am troubled, my wombe is disquieted, my heart turneth about in me, and I am full of heauinesse, because I rebelled stubburnly: the sworde hurteth me without, and within I am lyke vnto death.
24 I haue digged and druncke straunge waters: & with the steppe of my goyng wil I drye al the water pooles that are besieged.
14 The bread that he did eate, is turned to the poyson of serpentes within his bodye.
15 The riches that he deuoured shall he parbreake againe: for God shall drawe them out of his belly.
3 For whyle I helde my tongue: my bones consumed away through my dayly roaring.
10 Hast thou not powred me as it were milke, & turned me to cruddes like cheese?
5 Awake ye drunkardes, & weepe, howle all ye wine bibbers for lacke of newe wine: for it is cleane taken away from your mouth.
17 Because I am disposed to a haltyng: and my sorowe is euer in my syght.
4 And my spirite is ouerwhelmed within me: and my heart is desolate in the midst of me.
11 And therefore I am so full of thyne indignation O Lorde, that I may suffer no lenger, but shed it out vpon the chyldren that are without, and vpon all young men: yea the man must be taken prisoner with the wife, and the aged with the creeple.