Job 6:10
And 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.
And 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.
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
8O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
9That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
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,
11What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?
5I might harden you with my mouth, And the moving of my lips might be sparing.
6If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
13Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
14Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.
11Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
27Though I say, `I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
28I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
5I know the words He doth answer me, And understand what He saith to me.
6In the abundance of power doth He strive with me? No! surely He putteth `it' in me.
7There the upright doth reason with Him, And I escape for ever from my judge.
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
1My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
2I say unto God, `Do not condemn me, Let me know why Thou dost strive `with' me.
19Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
4I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?
6Against my right do I lie? Mortal `is' mine arrow -- without transgression.'
13Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
14To a despiser of his friends `is' shame, And the fear of the Mighty he forsaketh.
34He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,
35I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.
1And Job answereth and saith: --
2O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!
3For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
4For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
3Yet I for the Mighty One do speak, And to argue for God I delight.
13O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
23For a dread unto me `is' calamity `from' God, And because of His excellency I am not able.
5Pollution to me -- if I justify you, Till I expire I turn not aside mine integrity from me.
6On my righteousness I have laid hold, And I do not let it go, My heart doth not reproach me while I live.
15Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.
21Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me.
15If I have done wickedly -- wo to me, And righteously -- I lift not up my head, Full of shame -- then see my affliction,
16And God hath made my heart soft, And the Mighty hath troubled me.
17For I have not been cut off before darkness, And before me He covered thick darkness.
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.
8Yet I -- I inquire for God, And for God I give my word,
10Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.
27Whom I -- I see on my side, And mine eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, Consumed have been my reins in my bosom.
19Wo to me for my breaking, Grievious hath been my smiting, And I said, Only, this `is' my sickness, and I bear it.
3O that I had known -- and I find Him, I come in unto His seat,
16I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days `are' vanity.
15Sackcloth I have sewed on my skin, And have rolled in the dust my horn.
36If not -- on my shoulder I take it up, I bind it a crown on myself.