Chapter 17

Job speaks of the sorrow of death and of the grave in that day when the body returns to the dust.

 1 My abreath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.

 2 Are there not mockers with me? and doth not mine eye continue in their provocation?

 3 aLay down now, put me in a surety with thee; who is he that will strike hands with me?

 4 For thou hast hid their heart from understanding: therefore shalt thou not exalt them.

 5 He that speaketh aflattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail.

 6 He hath made me also a byword of the people; and aaforetime I was as a tabret.

 7 Mine eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow.

 8 Upright men shall be astonied at this, and the innocent shall stir up himself against the hypocrite.

 9 The righteous also shall hold on his way, and he that hath aclean hands shall be stronger and stronger.

 10 But as for you all, do ye return, and come now: for I cannot find one wise man among you.

 11 My adays are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.

 12 They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness.

 13 If I wait, the grave is mine ahouse: I have made my bed in the darkness.

 14 I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister.

 15 And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it?

 16 They shall go down to the bars of the pit, when our rest together is in the dust.