Job 30:1–15

1  But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock. 2  Yea, whereto should the strength of their hands profit me, men in whom vigour hath perished? 3  Withered up through want and hunger, they flee into waste places long since desolate and desert: 4  They gather the salt-wort among the bushes, and the roots of the broom for their food. 5  They are driven forth from among men —they cry after them as after a thief— 6  To dwell in gloomy gorges, in caves of the earth and the rocks: 7  They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together: 8  Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land. 9  And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword. 10  They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face. 11  For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me. 12  At my right hand rise the young brood; they push away my feet, and raise up against me their pernicious ways; 13  They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, without any to help them; 14  They come in as through a wide breach: amid the confusion they roll themselves onward.

15  Terrors are turned against me; they pursue mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away like a cloud.