Job 30:1-31

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Job 30:1-31 King James Version (KJV)

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock. Yea, whereto might the strength of their hands profit me, In whom old age was perished? For want and famine they were solitary; Fleeing into the wilderness in former time desolate and waste. Who cut up mallows by the bushes, And juniper roots for their meat. They were driven forth from among men, (They cried after them as after a thief;) To dwell in the cliffs of the valleys, in caves of the earth, and in the rocks. Among the bushes they brayed; Under the nettles they were gathered together. They were children of fools, yea, children of base men: They were viler than the earth. And now am I their song, Yea, I am their byword. They abhor me, they flee far from me, And spare not to spit in my face. Because he hath loosed my cord, and afflicted me, They have also let loose the bridle before me. Upon my right hand rise the youth; They push away my feet, And they raise up against me the ways of their destruction. They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, They have no helper. They came upon me as a wide breaking in of waters: In the desolation they rolled themselves upon me. Terrors are turned upon me: They pursue my soul as the wind: And my welfare passeth away as a cloud. And now my soul is poured out upon me; The days of affliction have taken hold upon me. My bones are pierced in me in the night season: And my sinews take no rest. By the great force of my disease is my garment changed: It bindeth me about as the collar of my coat. He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes. I cry unto thee, and thou dost not hear me: I stand up, and thou regardest me not. Thou art become cruel to me: With thy strong hand thou opposest thyself against me. Thou liftest me up to the wind; thou causest me to ride upon it, And dissolvest my substance. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit he will not stretch out his hand to the grave, Though they cry in his destruction. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: And when I waited for light, there came darkness. My bowels boiled, and rested not: The days of affliction prevented me. I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation. I am a brother to dragons, And a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me, And my bones are burned with heat. My harp also is turned to mourning, And my organ into the voice of them that weep.

Job 30:1-31 The Message (MSG)

“But no longer. Now I’m the butt of their jokes— young thugs! whippersnappers! Why, I considered their fathers mere inexperienced pups. But they are worse than dogs—good for nothing, stray, mangy animals, Half-starved, scavenging the back alleys, howling at the moon; Homeless ragamuffins chewing on old bones and licking old tin cans; Outcasts from the community, cursed as dangerous delinquents. Nobody would put up with them; they were driven from the neighborhood. You could hear them out there at the edge of town, yelping and barking, huddled in junkyards, A gang of beggars and no-names, thrown out on their ears. “But now I’m the one they’re after, mistreating me, taunting and mocking. They abhor me, they abuse me. How dare those scoundrels—they spit in my face! Now that God has undone me and left me in a heap, they hold nothing back. Anything goes. They come at me from my blind side, trip me up, then jump on me while I’m down. They throw every kind of obstacle in my path, determined to ruin me— and no one lifts a finger to help me! They violate my broken body, trample through the rubble of my ruined life. Terrors assault me— my dignity in shreds, salvation up in smoke. “And now my life drains out, as suffering seizes and grips me hard. Night gnaws at my bones; the pain never lets up. I am tied hand and foot, my neck in a noose. I twist and turn. Thrown facedown in the muck, I’m a muddy mess, inside and out. “I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer! I stand to face you in protest, and you give me a blank stare! You’ve turned into my tormenter— you slap me around, knock me about. You raised me up so I was riding high and then dropped me, and I crashed. I know you’re determined to kill me, to put me six feet under. “What did I do to deserve this? Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help? Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life, been heartsick over the lot of the poor? But where did it get me? I expected good but evil showed up. I looked for light but darkness fell. My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down. Each day confronts me with more suffering. I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone. I stand in the congregation and protest. I howl with the jackals, I hoot with the owls. I’m black-and-blue all over, burning up with fever. My fiddle plays nothing but the blues; my mouth harp wails laments.”

Job 30:1-31 New American Standard Bible - NASB 1995 (NASB1995)

“But now those younger than I mock me, Whose fathers I disdained to put with the dogs of my flock. Indeed, what good was the strength of their hands to me? Vigor had perished from them. From want and famine they are gaunt Who gnaw the dry ground by night in waste and desolation, Who pluck mallow by the bushes, And whose food is the root of the broom shrub. They are driven from the community; They shout against them as against a thief, So that they dwell in dreadful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks. Among the bushes they cry out; Under the nettles they are gathered together. Fools, even those without a name, They were scourged from the land. “And now I have become their taunt, I have even become a byword to them. They abhor me and stand aloof from me, And they do not refrain from spitting at my face. Because He has loosed His bowstring and afflicted me, They have cast off the bridle before me. On the right hand their brood arises; They thrust aside my feet and build up against me their ways of destruction. They break up my path, They profit from my destruction; No one restrains them. As through a wide breach they come, Amid the tempest they roll on. Terrors are turned against me; They pursue my honor as the wind, And my prosperity has passed away like a cloud. “And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have seized me. At night it pierces my bones within me, And my gnawing pains take no rest. By a great force my garment is distorted; It binds me about as the collar of my coat. He has cast me into the mire, And I have become like dust and ashes. I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You turn Your attention against me. You have become cruel to me; With the might of Your hand You persecute me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride; And You dissolve me in a storm. For I know that You will bring me to death And to the house of meeting for all living. “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, Or in his disaster therefore cry out for help? Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I expected good, then evil came; When I waited for light, then darkness came. I am seething within and cannot relax; Days of affliction confront me. I go about mourning without comfort; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. I have become a brother to jackals And a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black on me, And my bones burn with fever. Therefore my harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the sound of those who weep.

Job 30:1-31 New Century Version (NCV)

“But now those who are younger than I make fun of me. I would not have even let their fathers sit with my sheep dogs. What use did I have for their strength since they had lost their strength to work? They were thin from hunger and wandered the dry and ruined land at night. They gathered desert plants among the brush and ate the root of the broom tree. They were forced to live away from people; people shouted at them as if they were thieves. They lived in dried up streambeds, in caves, and among the rocks. They howled like animals among the bushes and huddled together in the brush. They are worthless people without names and were forced to leave the land. “Now they make fun of me with songs; my name is a joke among them. They hate me and stay far away from me, but they do not mind spitting in my face. God has taken away my strength and made me suffer, so they attack me with all their anger. On my right side they rise up like a mob. They lay traps for my feet and prepare to attack me. They break up my road and work to destroy me, and no one helps me. They come at me as if through a hole in the wall, and they roll in among the ruins. Great fears overwhelm me. They blow my honor away as if by a great wind, and my safety disappears like a cloud. “Now my life is almost over; my days are full of suffering. At night my bones ache; gnawing pains never stop. In his great power God grabs hold of my clothing and chokes me with the collar of my coat. He throws me into the mud, and I become like dirt and ashes. “I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you just look at me. You have turned on me without mercy; with your powerful hand you attacked me. You snatched me up and threw me into the wind and tossed me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place where all living people must go. “Surely no one would hurt those who are ruined when they cry for help in their time of trouble. I cried for those who were in trouble; I have been very sad for poor people. But when I hoped for good, only evil came to me; when I looked for light, darkness came. I never stop being upset; days of suffering are ahead of me. I have turned black, but not by the sun. I stand up in public and cry for help. I have become a brother to wild dogs and a friend to ostriches. My skin has become black and peels off, as my body burns with fever. My harp is tuned to sing a sad song, and my flute is tuned to moaning.

Job 30:1-31 American Standard Version (ASV)

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock. Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished. They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation. They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food. They are driven forth from the midst of men; They cry after them as after a thief; So that they dwell in frightful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks. Among the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together. They are children of fools, yea, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land. And now I am become their song, Yea, I am a byword unto them. They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And spare not to spit in my face. For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me. Upon my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction. They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Even men that have no helper. As through a wide breach they come: In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves upon me. Terrors are turned upon me; They chase mine honor as the wind; And my welfare is passed away as a cloud. And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have taken hold upon me. In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest. By God’s great force is my garment disfigured; It bindeth me about as the collar of my coat. He hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes. I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou gazest at me. Thou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me. Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; And thou dissolvest me in the storm. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness. My heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me. I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches. My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat. Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of them that weep.

Job 30:1-31 New International Version (NIV)

“But now they mock me, men younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. Of what use was the strength of their hands to me, since their vigor had gone from them? Haggard from want and hunger, they roamed the parched land in desolate wastelands at night. In the brush they gathered salt herbs, and their food was the root of the broom bush. They were banished from human society, shouted at as if they were thieves. They were forced to live in the dry stream beds, among the rocks and in holes in the ground. They brayed among the bushes and huddled in the undergrowth. A base and nameless brood, they were driven out of the land. “And now those young men mock me in song; I have become a byword among them. They detest me and keep their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. Now that God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they throw off restraint in my presence. On my right the tribe attacks; they lay snares for my feet, they build their siege ramps against me. They break up my road; they succeed in destroying me. ‘No one can help him,’ they say. They advance as through a gaping breach; amid the ruins they come rolling in. Terrors overwhelm me; my dignity is driven away as by the wind, my safety vanishes like a cloud. “And now my life ebbs away; days of suffering grip me. Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never rest. In his great power God becomes like clothing to me; he binds me like the neck of my garment. He throws me into the mud, and I am reduced to dust and ashes. “I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me. You turn on me ruthlessly; with the might of your hand you attack me. You snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living. “Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. The churning inside me never stops; days of suffering confront me. I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of owls. My skin grows black and peels; my body burns with fever. My lyre is tuned to mourning, and my pipe to the sound of wailing.

Job 30:1-31 New King James Version (NKJV)

“But now they mock at me, men younger than I, Whose fathers I disdained to put with the dogs of my flock. Indeed, what profit is the strength of their hands to me? Their vigor has perished. They are gaunt from want and famine, Fleeing late to the wilderness, desolate and waste, Who pluck mallow by the bushes, And broom tree roots for their food. They were driven out from among men, They shouted at them as at a thief. They had to live in the clefts of the valleys, In caves of the earth and the rocks. Among the bushes they brayed, Under the nettles they nestled. They were sons of fools, Yes, sons of vile men; They were scourged from the land. “And now I am their taunting song; Yes, I am their byword. They abhor me, they keep far from me; They do not hesitate to spit in my face. Because He has loosed my bowstring and afflicted me, They have cast off restraint before me. At my right hand the rabble arises; They push away my feet, And they raise against me their ways of destruction. They break up my path, They promote my calamity; They have no helper. They come as broad breakers; Under the ruinous storm they roll along. Terrors are turned upon me; They pursue my honor as the wind, And my prosperity has passed like a cloud. “And now my soul is poured out because of my plight; The days of affliction take hold of me. My bones are pierced in me at night, And my gnawing pains take no rest. By great force my garment is disfigured; It binds me about as the collar of my coat. He has cast me into the mire, And I have become like dust and ashes. “I cry out to You, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You regard me. But You have become cruel to me; With the strength of Your hand You oppose me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride on it; You spoil my success. For I know that You will bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. “Surely He would not stretch out His hand against a heap of ruins, If they cry out when He destroys it. Have I not wept for him who was in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? But when I looked for good, evil came to me; And when I waited for light, then came darkness. My heart is in turmoil and cannot rest; Days of affliction confront me. I go about mourning, but not in the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. I am a brother of jackals, And a companion of ostriches. My skin grows black and falls from me; My bones burn with fever. My harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the voice of those who weep.

Job 30:1-31 Amplified Bible (AMP)

“But now those younger than I mock and laugh at me, Whose fathers I refused to put with the sheepdogs of my flock. “Indeed, how could the strength of their hands profit me? Vigor had perished from them. “They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry and barren ground by night in [the gloom of] waste and desolation. “They pluck [and eat] saltwort (mallows) among the bushes, And their food is the root of the broom shrub. “They are driven from the community; They shout after them as after a thief. “They must dwell on the slopes of wadis And in holes in the ground and in rocks. “Among the bushes they cry out [like wild animals]; Beneath the prickly scrub they gather and huddle together. “They are the sons of [worthless and nameless] fools, They have been driven out of the land. ¶“And now I have become [the subject of] their taunting; Yes, I am a byword and a laughingstock to them. “They hate me, they stand aloof from me, And do not refrain from spitting in my face. “For God has loosed His bowstring [attacking me] and [He has] afflicted and humbled me; They have cast off the bridle [of restraint] before me. “On my right the [rabble] brood rises; They push my feet away, and they build up their ways of destruction against me [like an advancing army]. “They break up and clutter my path [upsetting my plans], They profit from my destruction; No one restrains them. “As through a wide breach they come, Amid the crash [of falling walls] they roll on [over me]. “Terrors are turned upon me; They chase away my honor and reputation like the wind, And my prosperity has passed away like a cloud. ¶“And now my soul is poured out within me; The days of affliction have seized me. “My bones are pierced [with aching] in the night season, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest. “By the great force [of my disease] my garment (skin) is disfigured and blemished; It binds about me [choking me] like the collar of my coat. “God has cast me into the mire [a swampland of crisis], And I have become [worthless] like dust and ashes. “I cry to You for help, [Lord,] but You do not answer me; I stand up, but You [only] gaze [indifferently] at me. “You have become harsh and cruel to me; With the might of Your hand You [keep me alive only to] persecute me. “You lift me up on the wind and cause me to ride [upon it]; And You toss me about in the tempest and dissolve me in the storm. “For I know that You will bring me to death And to the house of meeting [appointed] for all the living. ¶“However, does not one falling in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand? Or in his disaster [will he not] therefore cry out for help? “Did I not weep for one whose life was hard and filled with trouble? Was not my heart grieved for the needy? “When I expected good, then came evil [to me]; And when I waited for light, then came darkness. “I am seething within and my heart is troubled and cannot rest; Days of affliction come to meet me. “I go about mourning without comfort [my skin blackened by disease, not by the heat of the sun]; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. “I am a brother to [howling] jackals, And a companion to ostriches [which scream dismally]. “My skin falls from me in blackened flakes, And my bones are burned with fever. “Therefore my lyre (harp) is used for [the sound of] mourning, And my flute for the [sound of the] voices of those who weep.

Job 30:1-31 New Living Translation (NLT)

“But now I am mocked by people younger than I, by young men whose fathers are not worthy to run with my sheepdogs. A lot of good they are to me— those worn-out wretches! They are gaunt from poverty and hunger. They claw the dry ground in desolate wastelands. They pluck wild greens from among the bushes and eat from the roots of broom trees. They are driven from human society, and people shout at them as if they were thieves. So now they live in frightening ravines, in caves and among the rocks. They sound like animals howling among the bushes, huddled together beneath the nettles. They are nameless fools, outcasts from society. “And now they mock me with vulgar songs! They taunt me! They despise me and won’t come near me, except to spit in my face. For God has cut my bowstring. He has humbled me, so they have thrown off all restraint. These outcasts oppose me to my face. They send me sprawling and lay traps in my path. They block my road and do everything they can to destroy me. They know I have no one to help me. They come at me from all directions. They jump on me when I am down. I live in terror now. My honor has blown away in the wind, and my prosperity has vanished like a cloud. “And now my life seeps away. Depression haunts my days. At night my bones are filled with pain, which gnaws at me relentlessly. With a strong hand, God grabs my shirt. He grips me by the collar of my coat. He has thrown me into the mud. I’m nothing more than dust and ashes. “I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer. I stand before you, but you don’t even look. You have become cruel toward me. You use your power to persecute me. You throw me into the whirlwind and destroy me in the storm. And I know you are sending me to my death— the destination of all who live. “Surely no one would turn against the needy when they cry for help in their trouble. Did I not weep for those in trouble? Was I not deeply grieved for the needy? So I looked for good, but evil came instead. I waited for the light, but darkness fell. My heart is troubled and restless. Days of suffering torment me. I walk in gloom, without sunlight. I stand in the public square and cry for help. Instead, I am considered a brother to jackals and a companion to owls. My skin has turned dark, and my bones burn with fever. My harp plays sad music, and my flute accompanies those who weep.

Job 30:1-31 English Standard Version 2016 (ESV)

“But now they laugh at me, men who are younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock. What could I gain from the strength of their hands, men whose vigor is gone? Through want and hard hunger they gnaw the dry ground by night in waste and desolation; they pick saltwort and the leaves of bushes, and the roots of the broom tree for their food. They are driven out from human company; they shout after them as after a thief. In the gullies of the torrents they must dwell, in holes of the earth and of the rocks. Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they huddle together. A senseless, a nameless brood, they have been whipped out of the land. “And now I have become their song; I am a byword to them. They abhor me; they keep aloof from me; they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of me. Because God has loosed my cord and humbled me, they have cast off restraint in my presence. On my right hand the rabble rise; they push away my feet; they cast up against me their ways of destruction. They break up my path; they promote my calamity; they need no one to help them. As through a wide breach they come; amid the crash they roll on. Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is pursued as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed away like a cloud. “And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold of me. The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest. With great force my garment is disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic. God has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me. You have turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you persecute me. You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all living. “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help? Did not I weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? But when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, darkness came. My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me. I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat. My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.