Job - Chapter 27

¹ And Job continued his solemn discourse. He said:

² I swear by the living God who denies me justice, by Shaddai who has filled me with bitterness,

³ that as long as a shred of life is left in me, and the breath of God breathes in my nostrils,

⁴ my lips will never speak evil nor my tongue utter any lie.

⁵ Far from admitting you to be in the right, I shall maintain my integrity to my dying day.

⁶ I take my stand on my uprightness, I shall not stir: in my heart I need not be ashamed of my days.

⁷ Let my enemy meet the fate of the wicked, my adversary, the lot of the evil-doer!

⁸ For what hope does the godless have when he prays and raises his soul to God?

⁹ Is God likely to hear his cries when disaster descends on him?

¹⁰ Did he make Shaddai all his delight, calling on him at every turn?

¹¹ But I am showing you the way that God works, making no secret of Shaddai's designs.

¹² And if you had all understood them for yourselves, you would not have wasted your breath in empty words.

¹³ This is the fate that God assigns to the wicked, the inheritance that the violent receive from Shaddai.

¹⁴ Though he have many children, it is but for the sword; his descendants will never have enough to eat.

¹⁵ Plague will bury those he leaves behind him, and their widows will have no chance to mourn them.

¹⁶ Though he amass silver like dust and gather fine clothes like clay,

¹⁷ let him gather!-some good man will wear them, while his silver is shared among the upright.

¹⁸ All he has built himself is a spider's web, made himself a watchman's shack.

¹⁹ He goes to bed rich, but never again: he wakes to find it has all gone

²⁰ Terror assails him in broad daylight, and at night a whirlwind sweeps him off.

²¹ An east wind picks him up and drags him away, snatching him up from his homestead.

²² Pitilessly he is turned into a target, and forced to flee from the hands that menace him.

²³ His downfall is greeted with applause, he is hissed wherever he goes.

²⁴ He had his time of glory, now he vanishes, wilting like the saltwort once it is picked, and withering like an ear of corn.

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