Job 22

1 Fatness hath covered his face, and the fat hangeth down on his sides. 2 He hath dwelt in desolate cities, and in desert houses that are reduced into heaps. 3 He shall not be enriched, neither shall his substance continue, neither shall he push his root in the earth. 4 He shall not depart out of darkness: the flame shall dry up his branches, and he shall be taken away by the breath of his own mouth. 5 He shall not believe, being vainly deceived by error, that he may be redeemed with any price. 6 Before his days be full he shall perish: and his hands shall wither away. 7 He shall be blasted as a vine when its grapes are in the first flower, and as an olive tree that casteth its flower. 8 For the congregation of the hypocrite is barren, and fire shall devour their tabernacles, who love to take bribes. 9 He hath conceived sorrow, and hath brought forth iniquity, and his womb prepareth deceits. 11 Then Job answered, and said: 12 I have often heard such things as these: you are all troublesome comforters. 13 Shall windy words have no end? or is it any trouble to thee to speak? 14 I also could speak like you: and would God your soul were for my soul. 15 I would comfort you also with words, and would wag my head over you. 16 I would strengthen you with my mouth, and would move my lips, as sparing you. 17 But what shall I do? If I speak, my pain will not rest: and if I hold my peace, it will not depart from me. 18 But now my sorrow hath oppressed me, and all my limbs are brought to nothing. 19 My wrinkles bear witness against me, and a false speaker riseth up against my face, contradicting me. 20 He hath gathered together his fury against me, and threatening me he hath gnashed with his teeth upon me: my enemy hath beheld me with terrible eyes. 21 They have opened their mouths upon me, and reproaching me they have struck me on the cheek, they are filled with my pains. 22 God hath shut me up with the unjust man, and hath delivered me into the hands of the wicked. 23 I that was formerly so wealthy, am all on a sudden broken to pieces: he hath taken me by my neck, he hath broken me, and hath set me up to be his mark. 24 He hath compassed me round about with his lances, he hath wounded my loins, he hath not spared, and hath poured out my bowels on the earth, 25 He hath torn me with wound upon wound, he hath rushed in upon me like a giant. 26 I have sowed sackcloth upon my skin, and have covered my flesh with ashes. 27 My face is swollen with weeping, and my eyelids are dim. 28 These things have I suffered without the iniquity of my hand, when I offered pure prayers to God. 29 O earth, cover not thou my blood, neither let my cry find a hiding place in thee. 30 For behold my witness is in heaven, and he that knoweth my conscience is on high.