Job 27

1And Job addeth to lift up his simile, and saith: -- 2God liveth! He turned aside my judgment, And the Mighty--He made my soul bitter. 3For all the while my breath is in me, And the spirit of God in my nostrils. 4My lips do not speak perverseness, And my tongue doth not utter deceit. 5Pollution to me--if I justify you, Till I expire I turn not aside mine integrity from me. 6On my righteousness I have laid hold, And I do not let it go, My heart doth not reproach me while I live.

7As the wicked is my enemy, And my withstander as the perverse. 8For what is the hope of the profane, When He doth cut off? When God doth cast off his soul? 9His cry doth God hear, When distress cometh on him? 10On the Mighty doth he delight himself? Call God at all times?

11I shew you by the hand of God, That which is with the Mighty I hide not. 12Lo, ye--all of you--have seen, And why is this--ye are altogether vain? 13This is the portion of wicked man with God, And the inheritance of terrible ones From the Mighty they receive. 14If his sons multiply--for them is a sword. And his offspring are not satisfied with bread. 15His remnant in death are buried, And his widows do not weep. 16If he heap up as dust silver, And as clay prepare clothing, 17He prepareth--and the righteous putteth it on, And the silver the innocent doth apportion. 18He hath built as a moth his house, And as a booth a watchman hath made. 19Rich he lieth down, and he is not gathered, His eyes he hath opened, and he is not. 20Overtake him as waters do terrors, By night stolen him away hath a whirlwind. 21Take him up doth an east wind, and he goeth, And it frighteneth him from his place, 22And it casteth at him, and doth not spare, From its hand he diligently fleeth. 23It clappeth at him its hands, And it hisseth at him from his place.

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