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The Book of Job

Chapter 19

Job complains of the cruelty of his friends; he describes his own sufferings: and his belief of a future resurrection.

1	Then Job answered, and said:

2	How long do you afflict my soul, and break me in pieces with words?

3	Behold, these ten times you confound me, and are not ashamed to oppress me.

4	For if I have been ignorant, my ignorance shall be with me.

5	But you set yourselves up against me, and reprove me with my reproaches.

6	At least now understand, that God hath not afflicted me with an equal judgment, and compassed me with his scourges.

7	Behold I shall cry suffering violence, and no one will hear: I shall cry aloud, and there is none to judge.

8	He hath hedged in my path round about, and I cannot pass, and in my way he hath set darkness.

9	He hath stripped me of my glory, and hath taken the crown from my head.

10	He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am lost, and he hath taken away my hope, as from a tree that is plucked up.

11	His wrath is kindled against me, and he hath counted me as his enemy.

12	His troops have come together, and have made themselves a way by me, and have besieged my tabernacle round about.

13	He hath put my brethren far from me, and my acquaintance like strangers have departed from me.

14	My kinsmen have forsaken me, and they that knew me, have forgotten me.

15	They that dwell in my house, and my maidservants have counted me as a stranger, and I have been like an alien in their eyes.

16	I called my servant, and he gave me no answer, I entreated him with my own mouth.

17	My wife hath abhorred my breath, and I entreated the children of my womb.

18	Even fools despised me, and when I was gone from them, they spoke against me.

19	They that were sometime my counsellors, have abhorred me: and he whom I loved most is turned against me.

20	The flesh being consumed, my bone hath cleaved to my skin, and nothing but lips are left about my teeth.

21	Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me.

22	Why do you persecute me as God, and glut yourselves with my flesh?

23	Who will grant me that my words may be written? who will grant me that they may be marked down in a book?

24	With an iron pen and in a plate of lead, or else be graven with an instrument in flint stone?

25	For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and in the last day I shall rise out of the earth.

26	And I shall be clothed again with my skin, and in my flesh I shall see my God.

27	Whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold, and not another: this my hope is laid up in my bosom.

28	Why then do you say now: Let us persecute him, and let us find occasion of word against him?

29	Flee then from the face of the sword, for the sword is the revenger of iniquities: and know ye that there is a judgment.