The Book of Job

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.

Yea, whereto [should] the strength of their hands [profit] me, [men] in whom vigour hath perished?

Withered up through want and hunger, they flee into waste places long since desolate and desert:

They gather the salt-wort among the bushes, and the roots of the broom for their food.

They are driven forth from among [men] -- they cry after them as after a thief --

To dwell in gloomy gorges, in caves of the earth and the rocks:

They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together:

Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land.

And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.

They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face.

For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me.

They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, without any to help them;

They come in as through a wide breach: amid the confusion they roll themselves onward.

Terrors are turned against me; they pursue mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away like a cloud.

And now my soul is poured out in me; days of affliction have taken hold upon me.

The night pierceth through my bones [and detacheth them] from me, and my gnawing pains take no rest:

By their great force they have become my raiment; they bind me about as the collar of my coat.

He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry unto thee, and thou answerest me not; I stand up, and thou lookest at me.

Thou art changed to a cruel one to me; with the strength of thy hand thou pursuest me.

Thou liftest me up to the wind; thou causest me to be borne away, and dissolvest my substance.

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and into the house of assemblage for all living.

Indeed, no prayer [availeth] when he stretcheth out [his] hand: though they cry when he destroyeth.

Did not I weep for him whose days were hard? was not my soul grieved for the needy?

For I expected good, and there came evil; and I waited for light, but there came darkness.

My bowels well up, and rest not; days of affliction have confronted me.

I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up, I cry in the congregation.

I am become a brother to jackals, and a companion of ostriches.

My skin is become black [and falleth] off me, and my bones are parched with heat.

My harp also is [turned] to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of weepers.