Chapter 21 from Job | Ylt

And Job answereth and saith: --

Hear ye diligently my word, And this is your consolation.

Bear with me, and I speak, And after my speaking -- ye may deride.

I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?

Turn unto me, and be astonished, And put hand to mouth.

Yea, if I have remembered, then I have been troubled. And my flesh hath taken fright.

Wherefore do the wicked live? They have become old, Yea, they have been mighty in wealth.

Their seed is established, Before their face with them, And their offspring before their eyes.

Their houses `are' peace without fear, Nor `is' a rod of God upon them.

His bullock hath eaten corn, and doth not loath. His cow bringeth forth safely, And doth not miscarry.

They send forth as a flock their sucklings, And their children skip,

They lift `themselves' up at timbrel and harp, And rejoice at the sound of an organ.

They wear out in good their days, And in a moment `to' Sheol go down.

And they say to God, `Turn aside from us, And the knowledge of Thy ways We have not desired.

What `is' the Mighty One that we serve Him? And what do we profit when we meet with Him?'

Lo, not in their hand `is' their good, (The counsel of the wicked Hath been far from me.)

How oft is the lamp of the wicked extinguished, And come on them doth their calamity? Pangs He apportioneth in His anger.

They are as straw before wind, And as chaff a hurricane hath stolen away,

God layeth up for his sons his sorrow, He giveth recompense unto him -- and he knoweth.

His own eyes see his destruction, And of the wrath of the Mighty he drinketh.

For what `is' his delight in his house after him, And the number of his months cut off?

To God doth `one' teach knowledge, And He the high doth judge?

This `one' dieth in his perfect strength, Wholly at ease and quiet.

His breasts have been full of milk, And marrow his bones doth moisten.

And this `one' dieth with a bitter soul, And have not eaten with gladness.

Together -- on the dust they lie down, And the worm doth cover them over.

Lo, I have known your thoughts, And the devices against me ye do wrongfully.

For ye say, `Where `is' the house of the noble? And where the tent -- The tabernacles of the wicked?'

Have ye not asked those passing by the way? And their signs do ye not know?

That to a day of calamity is the wicked spared. To a day of wrath they are brought.

Who doth declare to his face his way? And `for' that which he hath done, Who doth give recompence to him?

And he -- to the graves he is brought. And over the heap a watch is kept.

Sweet to him have been the clods of the valley, And after him every man he draweth, And before him there is no numbering.

And how do ye comfort me `with' vanity, And in your answers hath been left trespass?