Job 30:1-31 NET

[1] "But now they mock me, those who are younger than I, whose fathers I disdained too much to put with my sheep dogs. [2] Moreover, the strength of their hands-what use was it to me? Those whose strength had perished, [3] gaunt with want and hunger, they would roam the parched land, by night a desolate waste. [4] By the brush they would gather herbs from the salt marshes, and the root of the broom tree was their food. [5] They were banished from the community-people shouted at them as they would shout at thieves- [6] so that they had to live in the dry stream beds, in the holes of the ground, and among the rocks. [7] They brayed like animals among the bushes and were huddled together under the nettles. [8] Sons of senseless and nameless people, they were driven out of the land with whips. [9] "And now I have become their taunt song; I have become a byword among them. [10] They detest me and maintain their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. [11] Because God has untied my tent cord and afflicted me, people throw off all restraint in my presence. [12] On my right the young rabble rise up; they drive me from place to place, and build up siege ramps against me. [13] They destroy my path; they succeed in destroying me without anyone assisting them. [14] They come in as through a wide breach; amid the crash they come rolling in. [15] Terrors are turned loose on me; they drive away my honor like the wind, and as a cloud my deliverance has passed away. [16] "And now my soul pours itself out within me; days of suffering take hold of me. [17] Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never cease. [18] With great power God grasps my clothing; he binds me like the collar of my tunic. [19] He has flung me into the mud, and I have come to resemble dust and ashes. [20] I cry out to you, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you only look at me. [21] You have become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you attack me. [22] You pick me up on the wind and make me ride on it; you toss me about in the storm. [23] I know that you are bringing me to death, to the meeting place for all the living. [24] "Surely one does not stretch out his hand against a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. [25] Have I not wept for the unfortunate? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? [26] But when I hoped for good, trouble came; when I expected light, then darkness came. [27] My heart is in turmoil unceasingly; the days of my affliction confront me. [28] I go about blackened, but not by the sun; in the assembly I stand up and cry for help. [29] I have become a brother to jackals and a companion of ostriches. [30] My skin has turned dark on me; my body is hot with fever. [31] My harp is used for mourning and my flute for the sound of weeping.