Job 6:3
For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
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1 And Job answereth and saith: --
2 O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!
4 For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
24 For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters `are' my roarings.
25 For a fear I feared and it meeteth me, And what I was afraid of doth come to me.
7 My soul is refusing to touch! They `are' as my sickening food.
8 O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
9 That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
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?
6 In dark places He hath caused me to dwell, As the dead of old.
7 He hath hedged me about, and I go not out, He hath made heavy my fetter.
23 Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
16 And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
20 Is it declared to Him that I speak? If a man hath spoken, surely he is swallowed up.
4 And my spirit in me is become feeble, Within me is my heart become desolate.
6 If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
7 Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
6 Know now, that God turned me upside down, And His net against me hath set round,
19 Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
13 Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
2 Also -- to-day `is' my complaint bitter, My hand hath been heavy because of my sighing.
16 And He breaketh with gravel my teeth, He hath covered me with ashes.
17 And Thou castest off from peace my soul, I have forgotten prosperity.
18 And I say, Perished hath my strength and my hope from Jehovah.
4 For mine iniquities have passed over my head, As a heavy burden -- too heavy for me.
11 My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
11 Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
12 A sea-`monster' am I, or a dragon, That thou settest over me a guard?
18 He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
23 For a dread unto me `is' calamity `from' God, And because of His excellency I am not able.
19 Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
3 When Thou dost cast me `into' the deep, Into the heart of the seas, Then the flood doth compass me, All Thy breakers and Thy billows have passed over me.
36 If not -- on my shoulder I take it up, I bind it a crown on myself.
6 My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
9 He hath hedged my ways with hewn work, My paths He hath made crooked.
53 They have cut off in a pit my life, And they cast a stone against me.
54 Flowed have waters over my head, I have said, I have been cut off.
18 For I have been full of words, Distressed me hath the spirit of my breast,
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.
9 Longer than earth `is' its measure, And broader than the sea.
2 Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?
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.
11 My days have passed by, My devices have been broken off, The possessions of my heart!
15 Dried up as an earthen vessel is my power, And my tongue is cleaving to my jaws.
6 I have been weary with my sighing, I meditate through all the night `on' my bed, With my tear my couch I waste.
20 Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
12 For compassed me have evils innumerable, Overtaken me have mine iniquities, And I have not been able to see; They have been more than the hairs of my head, And my heart hath forsaken me.
13 Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
11 Or darkness -- thou dost not see, And abundance of waters doth cover thee.