Job 16:7
Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
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8And Thou dost loathe me, For a witness it hath been, And rise up against me doth my failure, In my face it testifieth.
9His anger hath torn, and he hateth me, He hath gnashed at me with his teeth, My adversary sharpeneth his eyes for me.
11My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
4And my spirit in me is become feeble, Within me is my heart become desolate.
6If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
2I have heard many such things, Miserable comforters `are' ye all.
16And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
3Surely against me He turneth back, He turneth His hand all the day.
4He hath worn out my flesh and my skin. He hath broken my bones.
5He hath built up against me, And setteth round poverty and weariness.
6In dark places He hath caused me to dwell, As the dead of old.
7He hath hedged me about, and I go not out, He hath made heavy my fetter.
11God shutteth me up unto the perverse, And to the hands of the wicked turneth me over.
12At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.
13Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
14He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
15Sackcloth I have sewed on my skin, And have rolled in the dust my horn.
16My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids `is' death-shade.
13From above He hath sent fire into my bone, And it subdueth it, He hath spread a net for my feet, He hath turned me backward, He hath made me desolate -- all the day sick.
6And he set me up for a proverb of the peoples, And a wonder before them I am.
7And dim from sorrow is mine eye, And my members as a shadow all of them.
13My brethren from me He hath put far off, And mine acquaintances surely Have been estranged from me.
15He hath filled me with bitter things, He hath filled me `with' wormwood.
16And He breaketh with gravel my teeth, He hath covered me with ashes.
17And Thou castest off from peace my soul, I have forgotten prosperity.
3So I have been caused to inherit months of vanity, And nights of misery they numbered to me.
15Dried up as an earthen vessel is my power, And my tongue is cleaving to my jaws.
19Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
12My sojourning hath departed, And been removed from me as a shepherd's tent, I have drawn together, as a weaver, my life, By weakness it cutteth me off, From day unto night Thou dost end me.
13I have set `Him' till morning as a lion, So doth He break all my bones, From day unto night Thou dost end me.
16And God hath made my heart soft, And the Mighty hath troubled me.
21They have heard that I have sighed, There is no comforter for me, All my enemies have heard of my calamity, They have rejoiced that Thou hast done `it', Thou hast brought in the day Thou hast called, And they are like to me.
11My days have passed by, My devices have been broken off, The possessions of my heart!
16For these I am weeping, My eye, my eye, is running down with waters, For, far from me hath been a comforter, Refreshing my soul, My sons have been desolate, For mighty hath been an enemy.
2Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?
10For my life hath been consumed in sorrow And my years in sighing. Feeble because of mine iniquity hath been my strength, And my bones have become old.
7Old from provocation is mine eye, It is old because of all mine adversaries,
23He hath humbled in the way my power, He hath shortened my days.
1My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
9Mine honour from off me He hath stripped, And He turneth the crown from my head.
10He breaketh me down round about, and I go, And removeth like a tree my hope.
11And He kindleth against me His anger, And reckoneth me to Him as His adversaries.
18He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
3For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
8Thou hast put mine acquaintance far from me, Thou hast made me an abomination to them, Shut up -- I go not forth.
13Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
20Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
1My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
15-- What do I say? seeing He said to me, And He Himself hath wrought, I go softly all my years for the bitterness of my soul.