Book of Job - Ferrar Fenton Bible Translation page 826
The Psalms, Solomon and Sacred Writers
6·~~10
7··—9
IO II I2 18 20 2I 22 26 28 ]OB. Swing His hand out and dash me to bits 2 Then I should at least be consoled ; 'I`ho’ I shrink from the unsparing pain. See I hide not my innermost thoughts; For what is my strength or my hope ? What object for lengthening my life? Is my strength like the hardness of stones? Is my body compounded of bronze? Alas 2 there is no one to ease, And from me all deliverance has gone! To the burdened his friends should be kind Lest he lose for th’ ALMIGHTY respect. But my friends have betrayed like a brook, They pass like the rush from a storm, They are black with the ice on their top, Their sources are hid in the snow ; But they vanish in periods of warmth, In the heat they have gone from their place, They turn from the paths of their course, They go up in vapour and fade! Theman’s caravans trusted to them; The merchants of Sheba relied. They came! but their trust is betrayed ; They relied ! but their hope is deceived ; And you are like them——are you not? You see me depressed, and you shrink. Have I asked you to grant me a gift, Or to give me a part of your wealth, Or relieve from the hand of distress, Or redeem from the hand that afiiicts Inform me, and I will be still ; Instruct me in what I am wrong. How strong are ideas that are right But what do your arguments prove? Do you think that your speeches convince? Like the wind, are the thoughts of despair? Why should you the helpless assail And dig out a pit for your friend? But now be contented to watch, And see if I lie to your face; Examine, and be not unjust. Yes, search S for my right is in that. Is there a disease in my tongue, That I cannot decide between things? Has man not a warfare on earth? His days are like hirelings’ days, He pants like a slave for the shade, And hopes like a workman for wage l And so I bear wearisome months, And nights of distress are my lot. If I lay myself down, I exclaim, ‘ When will gloom cease that I may arise ?’ And am filled with disturbance till dawn ! Worms and clods are the garments I wear! My skin is all wrinkled and melts! My clays are the weft of a loom, They drop by the break of a thread ! Remember! my life is a breath, Nor shall I come back to see good ; While you look upon me I am gOI`l&, The eye will not see me that saw! Like a. cloud that consumes and is gone 826
