Job – The Amalgamation – Chapter 21

Then Job spoke out saying:

Listen carefully to what I have to say,

   Let that be your act of consoling me.

Bear with me while I speak,

   After I have spoken, then mock on.

As for me, is my complaint to a mere man?

   Why therefore, should I not be impatient?

Look at me and be appalled,

   Clap your hand over your mouth.

When I just think of it, I am dismayed,

   And trembling seizes my flesh.

Why do the wicked live on,

   Reach old age, grow hale and hearty?

Their children grow p in their presence,

   Their grandchildren before their eyes.

Their homes are secure, without fear,

   No rod of God comes upon them.

Their bulls breed, without fail,

   Their cows calve, without miscarriage.

They let their infants run loose like sheep,

   Their children frolic about,

They sing with the timbrel and lyre,

   Rejoice with the sound of pipes.

They pass their days in bounty,

   In a peaceful instant, they go down to Sheol.

Yet, they say unto God, “Depart from us!

   We desire not to know your ways.

What is Shaddai that we should worship him?

   What gain do we have it we pray to Him?

Indeed, our prosperity is not in His hands!”

   Far be from me, the counsel of the wicked!

How seldom do the lamps of the wicked go out,

   Or calamity come upon them

      As God apportions punishment in His anger,

That they become like stubble before the wind,

   Like chaff that the storm sweeps away?

You say: “God saves His punishment for his children.”

   Let God punish him, that he may know it.

Let his own eyes see his downfall,

   Let he himself drink the wrath of Shaddai.

For what does he care about his family after him,

   When the number of his own months is determined?

You ask: “Shall you teach God knowledge,

   He who posses judgement from on high?”

One dies in full prosperity,

   Being wholly at ease and secure.

His “olives” full of milk,

   The marrow of his bones moist.

Another dies in bitterness of soul,

   Never having tasted happiness.

Alike they lie in the dust,

   Both blanketed by maggots.

Behold, I know your thoughts,

   The schemes you plan against me.

For you say:

   “Where is the house of the nobleman?

      Where is the dwelling of the wicked?”

You must have consulted those who travel,

   You cannot disregard their accounts.

You declare:

   “The sinner is being saved for the day of calamity,

      On the day of wrath, he will be led out.”

But who denounces his conduct to his face?

   Who requites him for what he has done?

He is borne off to his mausoleum,

   His image keeps watch over his tomb.

The clods of the wadi are sweet to him,

   All follow his bier,

      As an innumerable host march before it.

How then can you comfort me with mere breath,

   When your answers are nothing,

      But a betrayal of the truth?

 

Job 209