Job 33:21
His flesh is consumed from being seen, And high are his bones, they were not seen!
His flesh is consumed from being seen, And high are his bones, they were not seen!
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19And he hath been reproved With pain on his bed, And the strife of his bones `is' enduring.
20And his life hath nauseated bread, And his soul desirable food.
22And draw near to the pit doth his soul, And his life to those causing death.
4He hath worn out my flesh and my skin. He hath broken my bones.
3For consumed in smoke have been my days, And my bones as a fire-brand have burned.
4Smitten as the herb, and withered, is my heart, For I have forgotten to eat my bread.
5From the voice of my sighing Hath my bone cleaved to my flesh.
22Only -- his flesh for him is pained, And his soul for him doth mourn.'
12Hungry is his sorrow, And calamity is ready at his side.
13It consumeth the parts of his skin, Consume his parts doth death's first-born.
14Drawn from his tent is his confidence, And it causeth him to step to the king of terrors.
5Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
28And he, as a rotten thing, weareth away, As a garment hath a moth consumed him.
11His bones have been full of his youth, And with him on the dust it lieth down.
28And he inhabiteth cities cut off, houses not dwelt in, That have been ready to become heaps.
29He is not rich, nor doth his wealth rise, Nor doth he stretch out on earth their continuance.
24His breasts have been full of milk, And marrow his bones doth moisten.
25And this `one' dieth with a bitter soul, And have not eaten with gladness.
8Darker than blackness hath been their visage, They have not been known in out-places, Cleaved hath their skin unto their bone, It hath withered -- it hath been as wood.
20To my skin and to my flesh Cleaved hath my bone, And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth.
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.
23The flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.
24My knees have been feeble from fasting, And my flesh hath failed of fatness.
7As one tilling and ripping up in the land, Have our bones been scattered at the command of Saul.
14As waters I have been poured out, And separated themselves have all my bones, My heart hath been like wax, It is melted in the midst of my bowels.
15Dried up as an earthen vessel is my power, And my tongue is cleaving to my jaws.
17At night my bone hath been pierced in me, And mine eyelids do not lie down.
18By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.
11And thou hast howled in thy latter end, In the consumption of thy flesh and thy food,
17Also all his days in darkness he consumeth, and sadness, and wrath, and sickness abound.
21There is not a remnant to his food, Therefore his good doth not stay.
7My soul is refusing to touch! They `are' as my sickening food.
26And after my skin hath compassed this `body', Then from my flesh I see God:
3And who have eaten the flesh of My people, And their skin from off them have stript, And their bones they have broken, And they have spread `them' out as in a pot, And as flesh in the midst of a caldron.
30My skin hath been black upon me, And my bone hath burned from heat,
25Fresher `is' his flesh than a child's, He returneth to the days of his youth.
20Forget him doth the womb, Sweeten `on' him doth the worm, No more is he remembered, And broken as a tree is wickedness.
8A thing of Belial is poured out on him, And because he lay down he riseth not again.
14His food in his bowels is turned, The bitterness of asps `is' in his heart.
11My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
16From beneath his roots are dried up, And from above cut off is his crop.
7For my flanks have been full of drought, And soundness is not in my flesh.
18All food doth their soul abominate, And they come nigh unto the gates of death,
7As his own dung for ever he doth perish, His beholders say: `Where `is' he?'
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.
23He is wandering for bread -- `Where `is' it?' He hath known that ready at his hand Is a day of darkness.
26All darkness is hid for his treasures, Consume him doth a fire not blown, Broken is the remnant in his tent.
22My shoulder from its blade let fall, And mine arm from the bone be broken.
32And he -- to the graves he is brought. And over the heap a watch is kept.
9The eye hath not seen him, and addeth not. And not again doth his place behold him.