Job 3:10
Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.
Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
11Why from the womb do I not die? From the belly I have come forth and gasp!
12Wherefore have knees been before me? And what `are' breasts, that I suck?
13For now, I have lain down, and am quiet, I have slept -- then there is rest to me,
17Because he hath not put me to death from the womb, And my mother is to me -- my grave, And her womb a pregnancy age-during.
18Why `is' this? from the womb I have come out, To see labour and sorrow, Yea, consumed in shame are my days!
18And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
19As I had not been, I am, From the belly to the grave I am brought,
20Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
16(Or as a hidden abortion I am not, As infants -- they have not seen light.)
9Let the stars of its twilight be dark, Let it wait for light, and there is none, And let it not look on the eyelids of the dawn.
3Let the day perish in which I am born, And the night that hath said: `A man-child hath been conceived.'
4That day -- let it be darkness, Let not God require it from above, Nor let light shine upon it.
17For I have not been cut off before darkness, And before me He covered thick darkness.
8And He shutteth up with doors the sea, In its coming forth, from the womb it goeth out.
10And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.
9For thou `art' He bringing me forth from the womb, Causing me to trust, On the breasts of my mother.
10On Thee I have been cast from the womb, From the belly of my mother Thou `art' my God.
14Cursed `is' the day in which I was born, The day that my mother bare me, Let it not be blessed!
11Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
15Did not He that made me in the womb make him? Yea, prepare us in the womb doth One.
16If I withhold from pleasure the poor, And the eyes of the widow do consume,
23To a man whose way hath been hidden, And whom God doth shut up?
24For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters `are' my roarings.
18(But from my youth He grew up with me as `with' a father, And from the belly of my mother I am led.)
13O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
3Therefore filled have been my loins `with' great pain, Pangs have seized me as pangs of a travailing woman, I have been bent down by hearing, I have been troubled by seeing.
13Pangs of a travailing woman come to him, He `is' a son not wise, For he remaineth not the time for the breaking forth of sons.
3For, a son I have been to my father -- tender, And an only one before my mother.
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.
8Also when I call and cry out, He hath shut out my prayer.
9He hath hedged my ways with hewn work, My paths He hath made crooked.
16My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids `is' death-shade.
25Did not I weep for him whose day is hard? Grieved hath my soul for the needy.
10Wo to me, my mother, For thou hast borne me a man of strife, And a man of contention to all the land, I have not lent on usury, Nor have they lent on usury to me -- All of them are reviling me.
15And where `is' now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?
6By Thee I have been supported from the womb, From my mother's bowels Thou dost cut me out, In Thee `is' my praise continually.
13For Thou -- Thou hast possessed my reins, Thou dost cover me in my mother's belly.
20Why giveth He to the miserable light, and life to the bitter soul?
15My substance was not hid from Thee, When I was made in secret, Curiously wrought in the lower part of earth.
3Compassed me have cords of death, And straits of Sheol have found me, Distress and sorrow I find.
13If I wait -- Sheol `is' my house, In darkness I have spread out my couch.
8My way He hedged up, and I pass not over, And on my paths darkness He placeth.
17Revealed to thee were the gates of death? And the gates of death-shade dost thou see?
1Man, born of woman! Of few days, and full of trouble!
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.
13Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
27My bowels have boiled, and have not ceased, Gone before me have days of affliction.
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
3Also -- on this Thou hast opened Thine eyes, And dost bring me into judgment with Thee.