1 B ut now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.

2 Y ea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished.

3 T hey are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.

4 T hey pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.

5 T hey are driven forth from the midst of men; They cry after them as after a thief;

6 S o that they dwell in frightful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks.

7 A mong the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together.

8 T hey are children of fools, yea, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land.

9 A nd now I am become their song, Yea, I am a byword unto them.

10 T hey abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And spare not to spit in my face.

11 F or he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.

12 U pon my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.

13 T hey mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Even men that have no helper.

14 A s through a wide breach they come: In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves upon me.

15 T errors are turned upon me; They chase mine honor as the wind; And my welfare is passed away as a cloud.

16 A nd now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have taken hold upon me.

17 I n the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest.

18 B y God's great force is my garment disfigured; It bindeth me about as the collar of my coat.

19 H e hath cast me into the mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.

20 I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou gazest at me.

21 T hou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me.

22 T hou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; And thou dissolvest me in the storm.

23 F or I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.

24 H owbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

25 D id not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?

26 W hen I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness.

27 M y heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me.

28 I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

29 I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.

30 M y skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat.

31 T herefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of them that weep.