Job 9:18
He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
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17Because with a tempest He bruiseth me, And hath multiplied my wounds for nought.
15He hath filled me with bitter things, He hath filled me `with' wormwood.
16And He breaketh with gravel my teeth, He hath covered me with ashes.
11Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
1My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
1My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.
12At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.
13Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
14He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
4He hath worn out my flesh and my skin. He hath broken my bones.
5He hath built up against me, And setteth round poverty and weariness.
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.
19If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment -- who doth convene me?
19Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
8My way He hedged up, and I pass not over, And on my paths darkness He placeth.
9Mine honour from off me He hath stripped, And He turneth the crown from my head.
3For all the while my breath `is' in me, And the spirit of God in my nostrils.
19How long dost Thou not look from me? Thou dost not desist till I swallow my spittle.
3For an enemy hath pursued my soul, He hath bruised to the earth my life, He hath caused me to dwell in dark places, As the dead of old.
4And my spirit in me is become feeble, Within me is my heart become desolate.
2Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?
22Thou dost lift me up, On the wind Thou dost cause me to ride, And Thou meltest -- Thou levellest me.
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.
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.
11My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
7Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
8And Thou dost loathe me, For a witness it hath been, And rise up against me doth my failure, In my face it testifieth.
9His anger hath torn, and he hateth me, He hath gnashed at me with his teeth, My adversary sharpeneth his eyes for me.
19Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
19Remember my affliction and my mourning, Wormwood and gall!
15And my soul chooseth strangling, Death rather than my bones.
24For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters `are' my roarings.
9He hath hedged my ways with hewn work, My paths He hath made crooked.
4I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?
18And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
4For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
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.
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
9That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
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.
16And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
20Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
10Turn aside from off me Thy stroke, From the striving of Thy hand I have been consumed.
28I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
2Also -- to-day `is' my complaint bitter, My hand hath been heavy because of my sighing.
18Jah hath sorely chastened me, And to death hath not given me up.
11And He kindleth against me His anger, And reckoneth me to Him as His adversaries.
19And he hath been reproved With pain on his bed, And the strife of his bones `is' enduring.
20Why giveth He to the miserable light, and life to the bitter soul?