Job Complains to God
My Hopes Have Died
1 My hopes have died,
my time is up,
and the grave is ready.
2 All I can see are angry crowds,
making fun of me.
3 If you, Lord, don't help,
who will pay the price
for my release?
4 My friends won't really listen,
all because of you,
and so you must be the one
to prove them wrong.
5 They have condemned me,
just to benefit themselves;
now blind their children.
6 You, God, are the reason
I am insulted and spit on.
7 I am almost blind with grief;
my body is a mere shadow.
8 People who are truly good
would feel so alarmed,
that they would become angry
with my worthless friends.
9 They would do the right thing
and because they did,
they would grow stronger.
10 But none of my friends
show any sense.
11 My life is drawing to an end;
hope has disappeared.
12 But all my friends can do
is offer empty hopes.
13 I could tell the world below
to prepare me a bed.
14 Then I could greet the grave
as my father
and say to the worms,
“Hello, mother and sisters!”
15 But what kind of hope is that?
16 Will it keep me company
in the world of the dead?
1 My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me. 2 Are there not mockers with me? and doth not mine eye continue in their provocation? 3 Lay down now, put me in a surety with thee; who is he that will strike hands with me? 4 For thou hast hid their heart from understanding: therefore shalt thou not exalt them . 5 He that speaketh flattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail. 6 He hath made me also a byword of the people; and aforetime I was as a tabret. 7 Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow. 8 Upright men shall be astonied at this, and the innocent shall stir up himself against the hypocrite. 9 The righteous also shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger.
10 But as for you all, do ye return, and come now: for I cannot find one wise man among you. 11 My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart. 12 They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness. 13 If I wait, the grave is mine house: I have made my bed in the darkness. 14 I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister. 15 And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it? 16 They shall go down to the bars of the pit, when our rest together is in the dust.