Job 6:12
Is my strength the strength of stones? Is my flesh brazen?
Is my strength the strength of stones? Is my flesh brazen?
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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.
11 What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?
13 Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
18 His bones `are' tubes of brass, His bones `are' as a bar of iron.
4 He hath worn out my flesh and my skin. He hath broken my bones.
10 For 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.
15 Dried up as an earthen vessel is my power, And my tongue is cleaving to my jaws.
2 Also -- the power of their hands, why `is it' to me? On them hath old age perished.
14 Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
19 If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment -- who doth convene me?
8 Dost thou also make void My judgment? Dost thou condemn Me, That thou mayest be righteous?
9 And an arm like God hast thou? And with a voice like Him dost thou thunder?
18 And I say, Perished hath my strength and my hope from Jehovah.
6 In the abundance of power doth He strive with me? No! surely He putteth `it' in me.
26 Consumed hath been my flesh and my heart, The rock of my heart and my portion `is' God to the age.
2 Iron from the dust is taken, And `from' the firm stone brass.
12 Doth one break iron -- northern iron, and brass?
5 As the days of man `are' Thy days? Thy years as the days of a man?
6 That Thou inquirest for mine iniquity, And for my sin seekest?
10 My heart `is' panting, my power hath forsaken me, And the light of mine eyes, Even they are not with me.
19 Doth He value thy riches? He hath gold, and all the forces of power.
4 I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?
27 He reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.
15 And where `is' now my hope? Yea, my hope, who doth behold it?
18 By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.
19 Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
22 My shoulder from its blade let fall, And mine arm from the bone be broken.
12 A sea-`monster' am I, or a dragon, That thou settest over me a guard?
5 From the voice of my sighing Hath my bone cleaved to my flesh.
20 Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
17 What `is' man that Thou dost magnify him? And that Thou settest unto him Thy heart?
23 He hath humbled in the way my power, He hath shortened my days.
18 My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
1 My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.
4 `Cause me to know, O Jehovah, mine end, And the measure of my days -- what it `is',' I know how frail I `am'.
24 If I have made gold my confidence, And to the pure gold have said, `My trust,'
12 Wherefore have knees been before me? And what `are' breasts, that I suck?
6 Is not thy reverence thy confidence? Thy hope -- the perfection of thy ways?
2 Favour me, O Jehovah, for I `am' weak, Heal me, O Jehovah, For troubled have been my bones,
2 For thou `art' the God of my strength. Why hast Thou cast me off? Why mourning do I go up and down, In the oppression of an enemy?
3 Jehovah, what `is' man that Thou knowest him? Son of man, that Thou esteemest him?
2 What -- thou hast helped the powerless, Saved an arm not strong!
3 For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
23 The flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.
11 Skin and flesh Thou dost put on me, And with bones and sinews dost fence me.
5 Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
8 I have been feeble and smitten -- unto excess, I have roared from disquietude of heart.
13 From 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.
3 For consumed in smoke have been my days, And my bones as a fire-brand have burned.
9 `What gain `is' in my blood? In my going down unto corruption? Doth dust thank Thee? doth it declare Thy truth?