1 Job answereth, that his peine is more grievous then his faute 8 He wisheth death 14 He complaineth of his friends.
1.But Job answered, and said,
7.Such things as my soule refused to touche, as were sorrows, are my meat.
9.That is, that God wolde destroye me: that he wolde let his hand go, and cut me of.
12.Is my strength the strength of stones? or is my flesh of brasse?
14.He that is in miserie, oght to be comforted of his neighbour: but men have forsaken the feare of the Almightie.
16.Which are blackish with yce, and wherein the snow is hid.
17.But in time thei are dried up with heat and are consumed: and when it is hot they fail out of their places,
18.Or they depart from their way and course, yea, they vanish and perish.
20.But they were confounded: when they hoped, they came thether and were ashamed.
23.And deliver me from the enemie’s hand, or ransom me out of the hand of tyrants?
27.Ye make your wrath to fall upon the fatherless, and dig a pit for your friend.
29.Turn, I pray you, let there be none iniquity: return, I say, and ye shal se yet my righteousness in that behalf. Is there iniquity in my tongue? doeth not my mouth feel sorrows?