To the thinking of the critics of former times the Proverbs displayed unmistakable traces of the unique and highly finished workmanship of the great and wise king Solomon. At the present day no serious student of the Bible, be he Christian or Rationalist, would raise his voice on behalf of this Jewish tradition which, running counter to well-established facts, is devoid even of the doubtful recommendation of moderate antiquity. A more accurate knowledge of history and a more thorough study of philology have long since made it manifest to all who can lay claim to either, that however weighty may have been Solomon's titles to immortality, they included neither depth of philosophic thought nor finish of literary achievement. And an average supply of plain common-sense enables us to see that even had that extraordinary monarch been a profound thinker or a classic writer, he would hardly have treated future events as accomplished facts without being endowed with further gifts and marked by graver defects which would involve a curious combination of prophecy and folly.

The Proverbs themselves, when properly interrogated, tell a good deal of their own story; sacred and profane history supply the rest. In their present form they were collected and edited by the author of the first six verses of the first chapter, who drew his materials from different sources. The first and most important of these was the so-called "Praise of Wisdom" which, until a comparatively recent period, was erroneously held to be a rounded, homogeneous poem. Professor Bickell conclusively showed that it consists of ten different songs composed in the same metre as the Poem of Job, each chapter being coextensive with one song, except the first chapter, which contains two.[172] The fifth collection, containing the proverbs copied "by the men of Hezekiah," is characterised by the strong national spirit of the writers. Most of the others make frequent mention of God, give a prominent place to religion, and adapt themselves for use as texts for sermons; these, on the contrary, never once mention His name, reflect religion as it was—viz., as only one of the many sides of national existence, and deal mainly with the concrete problems of the everyday life of the struggling people. The other sayings may be aptly described as the pious maxims of a sect; these as the thoughts of a nation. The seventh part of the Book of Proverbs contains the remarkable sayings of Agur,[173] which were quite as frequently misunderstood by the Jews of old as by Christians of more recent times, the former heightening the impiety of the author and the latter generously identifying him with the pious and fanatical writer to whose well-meant refutations and protests we owe the preservation of this interesting fragment of ancient Hebrew agnosticism.

Footnotes:

[171] The Book of Proverbs begins with ten songs on wisdom, which constitute the first part of the work. The second part is made up of distichs, each one of which, complete in itself, embodies a proverbial saying (x. i-xxii. 16). The third section is composed of the "sayings of the wise men," which are enshrined in tetrastichs or strophes of four lines, among which we find an occasional interpolation by the editor, recognisable by the paternal tone, the words "My son," and the substitution of distichs for tetrastichs. Then comes the appendix containing other proverbial dicta (chap. xxiv. 23-34. chap. vi. 9-19, chap. xxv. 2-10), followed by the proverbs "of Solomon, which the men of Hezekiah copied out" (xxv. 11-xxvii. 22), and wound up with a little poem in praise of rural economy. Chaps. xxviii. and xxix. constitute another collection of proverbs of a more strictly religious character, and then come the sayings of Agur, written in strophes of six lines, the rules for a king and the praise of a good housewife.

[172] Prov. i. 7-19 and i. 20-33.

[173] Chap. xxx.

* * * * *

FORM AND CONTENTS OF THE SAYINGS OF AGUR

It is needless to discuss the condition and the contents of the entire Book of Proverbs, seeing that each one of its component parts has an independent, if somewhat obscure, history of its own. The final compiler and editor, to whom we are indebted for the collection in its present form, undoubtedly found the sweeping scepticism of the poet Agur and the pious protestations of his anonymous adversary, the thesis and the antithesis, inextricably interwoven in the section now known as the thirtieth chapter. He himself apparently identified the two antagonists—the scoffing doubter and the believing Jew; most modern theologians have cheerfully followed his example. The fact would seem to be that the orthodox member of the Jewish community, who thus emphatically objected to aggressive agnosticism, was a man who strictly observed the "Mosaic" Law, and sympathised with the people in their hatred of their heathen masters and their hopes of speedy deliverance by the Messiah; in a word, an individual of the party which later on played an important role in Palestine under the name of the Pharisees. Possessing a copy of Agur's popular philosophical treatise, this zealous champion undertook to refute the theory before he had ascertained the drift of the sayings in which it was enshrined, or grasped their primary meaning. Thus, in one passage[174] he fancies that the taunts which Agur levelled against omniscient theologians who are well up in the history of everything that is done or left undone in heaven, while amazingly ignorant of the ascertainable facts of earthly science, are really aimed at God; and he seeks to parry the attack accordingly. His numerous and amusing errors are such as characterise the fanaticism that would refute a theory before hearing it unfolded, not those which accompany and betray pious imbecility. Hence it would be unfair to tax him with the utter incoherency of the prayer which our Bibles make him offer up, when warding off the supposed attack upon God: (8) "Feed me with food convenient for me, (9) Lest I be full and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain." The mistake is the result of the erroneous punctuation of the Hebrew words,[175] which may be literally rendered into English as follows:

"Feed me with food suitable for me, Lest I be sated and deny thee, And say, Who is the Lord? Or lest I be poor and yield to seduction, And sin against the name of my God.'

In the ensuing verse the controversialist, full of his own Pharisaic[176] views of politics, and fancying he detects in certain of Agur's words,[177] an apology for the heathen rulers and contempt for the orthodox people of God, inveighs against the traitor who would denounce his fellow-subjects to their common master,[178] and holds him up to universal odium.

One or two other false constructions put upon Agur's sayings by the champion of the "Law of Jahveh," are likewise worthy of attention. In the second sentence, which can be traced back to the proverbial philosophy of the Hindoos, Agur, enumerating the four things that are never satisfied, lays special stress upon two which are, so to say, the beginning and end of all things, the alpha and omega of human philosophy—viz., the grave and the womb;[179] the latter the bait as well as the portal of life, the former the bugbear and the goal of all things living. The idea, no less than the form, is manifestly Indian. Birth and death constitute the axis of existence; the womb is the symbol of the allurement that tempts men to forget their sorrows, to keep the Juggernaut wheel revolving and to supply it with fresh victims to be mangled and crushed into the grave. The lure and the deterrent—love of sensuous pleasure and fear of dissolution—are as deceitful as all the other causes of pain and pleasure in this world of appearance. Schopenhauer puts it tersely thus: "As we are decoyed into life by the utterly illusory impulse to voluptuousness, even so are we held fast therein by the fear of death, which is certainly illusory in an equal degree. Both have their immediate source in the Will, which in itself is unconscious."[180]

The only reward which life offers to those who crave it, is suffering and death. The desire of life—the Indian tanha or thirst of existence—Agur represents in the form of the beautiful but terrible Ghoul of the desert who has two daughters: birth and death. By means of her fascinating charms she entices the wanderer to her arms, but instead of satiating his soul with the promised joys, she ruthlessly flings him to her two daughters who tear him to pieces and devour him on the spot. Desire is the source of life which in turn is the taproot of all evil and pain; insight into this truth—the knowledge or wisdom lauded by Job and prized by Koheleth—affords the only means of breaking the unholy spell, and escaping from the magic circle.

This ingenious and profound philosophical image was wholly misunderstood by Agur's orthodox adversary, who founds upon the deprecatory allusion to the womb a general accusation of lack of reverence for maternity and a specific charge of disrespect for Agur's own mother.[181]

Agur's third saying has been likewise sadly misconstrued by the ancient Pharisaic controversialist and by his faithful modern successors. He enumerates therein four things which to him seem wholly incomprehensible, the fourth and last being the darkest mystery of all: the flying of an eagle in the air, the movement of a serpent—which is devoid of special organs of locomotion—along a rock, the sailing of a ship on the ocean, and "the way of a man with a maid."[182] It is very hard to believe what is nevertheless an undeniable fact, that the bulk of serious commentators classify these as the trackless things, whereby, strangely enough, they understand the last of the four in a moral instead of a metaphysical sense. The error is an old one: it was on the strength of this arbitrary and vulgar interpretation that Agur was accused by his Jewish antagonist of a criminal lack of filial piety towards his own father,[183] and threatened with condign punishment, to be inflicted by the eagles that fly so wonderfully in the air;[184] while another scribe, unaware that the mystery of generation could be chosen as the text for a treatise on metaphysics, and firmly convinced that the philosopher was condemning unhallowed relations between the sexes, penned a gloss to make things sufficiently clear which was afterwards removed from the margin to the text where it now figures as the twentieth verse.

In truth, Agur gives utterance to a natural sentiment of awe and wonder at the greatest and darkest of all mysteries whose roots lie buried in the depths of the two worlds we conceive of. What could be more awe-inspiring than the instantaneous metamorphosis of pure immaterial will into concrete flesh and blood, throbbing with life hastening to decay, the incarnation in the sphere of appearances of an act of the one being which is not an appearance only, but the denizen of the world of reality? Will is primary, real, enduring; intellect secondary, accidental, fleeting; the one, abiding for ever, is identical in all things; the latter varies in different beings, nay in the same individuals at various times, and perishes with the brain, of which it is a function. Will is devoid of intellect, as intellect is deprived of velleity. We know will through our inner consciousness which has to do exclusively with it and its manifold manifestations; all other things—the world of appearances—we know through what may be termed our outer consciousness.

Now in our self-consciousness we apprehend the fierce, blind, headstrong sexual impulse as the most powerful motion of concentrated will. The act is marked by the spontaneity, impetuosity, and lack of reflection which characterises the agent, will being by nature unenlightened and unconditioned. And yet that which in our inner consciousness is a blind, vehement impulse, appears in our outer consciousness in the form of the most complex living organism we know. Generation, then, is manifestly the point at which the real and the seeming intersect each other.

Birth and death—the inevitable lot of each and every one—would seem to affect the individual only, the race living on without change or decay. This, however, is but the appearance. In reality the individual and the race are one. The blind striving to live, the will that craves existence at all costs, is absolutely the same in both, as complete in the former as in the latter, and the perpetuity of the race is, so to say, but the symbol of the indestructibility of the individual—i.e., of will.

Now this all-important fact is exemplified quite as clearly by the phenomenon of generation as by the process of decay and death. In both we behold the opposition between the appearance and the essence of the being, between the world as it exists in our intellect as representation, and the world as it really is, as will. The act of generation is known to us through two different media: that of the inner consciousness which is taken up with our will and all its movements, and that of our outer consciousness which has to do with impressions received through the senses. Seen through the former medium, the act is the most complete and immediate satisfaction of the will—sensual lust; viewed in the light supplied by the outer consciousness, it appears as the woof of the most intricate texture, the basis of the most complex of living organisms. From this angle of vision, the result is a work of amazing skill, designed with the greatest ingenuity and forethought, and carried out with patient industry and scrupulous care; from that point of view it is the direct outcome of an act which is the negation of plan, forethought, skill, and ingenuity, a blind unreasoning impulse. This contrast or rather opposition between the seeming and the real, this new view of birth and death, this sudden flash of light athwart the impenetrable darkness, is what provokes the wonder of this scoffing sceptic.[185]

In the fourth saying, Agur mentions, among the persons whom the earth cannot endure, a low-bred fellow who is set to rule over others, and a fool when he acquires a competency and becomes independent. The anonymous Pharisee, who keeps a vigilant watch for doctrinal slips and political backslidings and frequently finds them where they are not, descries in the first of the four unbearable things a proof that Agur was a Sadducee and an aristocrat who would rather obey a monarch who is "every inch a king"—even though he be a heathen—than a native clodhopper who should climb up to the throne on the backs of a poor deluded people and grind them down in the sacred name of liberty and independence. Agur is therefore duly reprimanded and classed with the shameless oppressors of the multitude and the devourers of the substance of the poor,[186] as the Sadducees generally were by their Pharisaic opponents.

The sentence that follows, enumerating the things "which are little upon the earth,[187] is not from the pen of our philosopher, but a harmless passage inserted subsequently as a pendant to the four things which "are comely in going." The main considerations that point to this conclusion and warrant us in ascribing the verses to a different author are these: all the other "numerical sayings" which are admittedly the work of Agur, contain first of all the number three and in the parallel verse four,[188] whereas this sentence speaks of four only. Again, all Agur's proverbs are in the form of strophes of six lines each; but this passage consists of five distichs. Lastly, it is a manifest digression, leads nowhither, and, what is still more important, has no point, as all Agur's sayings have.[189]

The final sentence of this interesting fragment needs no elaborate explanation: it contains the pith of Agur's practical philosophy in the form of an exhortation to renounce honour, glory, the esteem of men, &c., if we possess legitimate claims to such, and still more if we have none; the acquisition of peace and quiet is cheap at the price of obscurity; freedom from care and worry and from the evils they bring in their train, being of infinitely greater value than the chance and even the certainty of so-called "positive" enjoyments.

Footnotes:

[174] Prov. xxx. 4.

[175] The Hebrew text consists of vowelless words. The correct vowels must be ascertained before the meaning of a word or sentence can be definitely established. The vowel points of our Hebrew Bibles are not older than the seventh century A.D., and are frequently erroneous. In the present case the word stealing does not occur in the text, but only the being stolen—viz., seduction, temptation.

[176] I employ the word in its natural, not in its conventional, sense.

[177] Prov. xxx. 21, 22.

[178] Ibid xxx. 10.

[179] The word "barren" added in our Bibles (Hebrew 'oczer, "barrenness") is not only excluded by the metre, but is also wanting in the Septuagint version—conclusive proofs that it is a later interpolation.

[180] Cf. Schopenhauer, "Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung," herausg. v. E. Grisebach, ii. p. 585. Grisebach's is the only correct edition of Schopenhauer's works.

[181] Prov. xxx. 11.

[182] Ib. xxx. 18, 19.

[183] Ib. xxx. 11.

[184] Ib. xxx. 17.

[185] Cf. Schopenhauer, "Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung," vol. ii. p. 583 fol.; also vol. i. pp. 424-426; and Bickell, "Wiener Zeitschrift fuer Kunde des Morgenlandes," 1891.

[186] Prov. xxx. 19.

[187] Ib. xxx. 24-28.

[188] For example, Prov. xxx. 15:

"There are three things that are never satisfied, Yea, four things say not, 'It is enough!'"

[189] Cf. Bickell, "Wiener Zeitschrift fuer Kunde des Morgenlandes," 1891.

* * * * *

DATE OF COMPOSITION

The sayings of Agur cannot possibly be assigned to a date later than the close of third century B.C. The ground for this statement is contained in the circumstance that Jesus Sirach found the Book of Proverbs in existence, with all its component parts and in its present shape, about the year 200 B.C. He mentions a collection of proverbial sayings when alluding to Solomon and his proverbs. Jesus Sirach's canon—if we can apply this technical term to the series of scriptures in vogue in his day—comprised the books contained in our Bibles from Genesis to Kings, further Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezechiel, the twelve Minor Prophets, Psalms, Proverbs, and Job. Moreover, it is no longer open to doubt that the arrangement of the various parts of the Book of Proverbs which he read was identical with that of ours. For the last part of this Book contains an alphabetical poem in praise of a good housewife,[190] and Jesus Sirach concluded his own work with a similar poem upon wisdom, in which he imitated this alphabetical order. It is obvious, therefore, that Proverbs in their present form could not have been compiled later than the date of Jesus Sirach's work (about 200 B.C.). This conclusion is borne out by the circumstance that the final editor of Proverbs in his introduction,[191] mentions the Words of the Wise, which occur in chapters xxii. 17-xxiv., and "their dark sayings," or riddles, by which he obviously means the sentences of Agur. For Proverbs and for Agur's fragment, therefore, the latest date is the beginning of the second century B.C. Chapter xxx., in which, on the one hand, Agur develops very advanced philosophical views, some of them of Indian origin, and, on the other, his anonymous antagonist breathes the narrow, fanatic spirit so thoroughly characteristic of the later "Mosaic" Law, is among the very latest portions of Proverbs. For it is in the highest degree probable that the sayings of Agur are of a much later date even than the promulgation of the Priests' Code;[192] and the circumstance that the anonymous stickler for strict orthodoxy already begins to accentuate the political and religious opposition between the two great parties known as Pharisees and Sadducees, as well as other grounds of a different order, disposes me to assign the fragment of Agur to the third century B.C. This conclusion would be borne out by the influence upon Agur's scepticism of comparatively recent foreign speculation. Some of his sayings have an unmistakable Indian ring about them. A few are even directly traceable to the philosophical sentences of the Hindoos. The enumeration of the four insatiable things, for instance, is but a slight modification of the Indian proverb in the Hitopadeca which runs: "Fire is not satiated with fuel; nor the sea with streams; nor death with all beings; nor a fair-eyed woman with men."[193] Still more striking and suggestive is the correspondence between the desire of life, personified in Agur's fragment by the beautiful Ghoul, and the thirst of existence denoted by the Buddha and his countrymen as tanha—the root of all evil and suffering. "Through thirst for existence (tanha)," the Buddha is reported to have said to his disciples, "arises a craving for life; through this, being; through being, birth; through birth are produced age and death, care and misery, suffering, wretchedness and despair. Such is the origin of the world.... By means of the total annihilation of this thirst for existence (tanha) the destruction of the craving for life is compassed; through the destruction of the craving for life, the uprooting of being is effected; through the uprooting of being, the annihilation of birth is brought about; by means of the annihilation of birth the abolition of age and death, of care and misery, of suffering, wretchedness and despair is accomplished. In this wise takes place the annihilation of this sum of suffering."[194] The same doctrine is laid down by the last accredited of the Buddha's disciples, Sariputto: "What, brethren, is the source of suffering?" he is reported to have said. "It is that desire (tanha) which leads from new birth to new birth, which is accompanied by joy and passion, which delights now here, now there; it is the sexual instinct, the impulse towards existence, the craving for development. That, brethren, is what is termed the source of suffering."[195]

Footnotes:

[190] Prov. xxxi. 10-31.

[191] Prov. i. 6.

[192] 444 B.C.

[193] Cf. Hitopadeca, book ii. fable vi.; ed. Max Mueller, vol. ii. p. 38.

[194] Samyuttaka-Nikayo, vol. ii. chap. xliv. p. 12; cf. Neumann "Buddhistiche Anthologie," Leiden, 1892, pp. 161-162.

[195] Majjhima-Nikayo; cf. Neumann, op. sit., p.25.

* * * * *

AGUR'S PHILOSOPHY

Of the three Hebrew thinkers of the Old Testament who ventured to sift and weigh the evidence on which the religious beliefs of their contemporaries were based, Agur was probably the most daring and dangerous. He appealed directly to the people, and set up a simple standard of criticism which could be effectively employed by all. Hence, no doubt, the paucity of the fragments of his writings which have come down to us and the consequent difficulty of constructing therewith a complete and coherent system of philosophy. To what extent he assented to the theories and approved the practices which constitute the positive elements of the Buddha's religion, is open to discussion; but that he was a confirmed sceptic as regards the fundamental doctrines of Jewish theology, and that his speculations received their impulse and direction from Indian philosophy, are facts which can no longer be called in question.

To the theologians of his day he shows no mercy; for their dogmas of retribution, Messianism, &c., he evinces no respect; nay, he denies all divine revelation and strips the deity itself of every vestige of an attribute. Proud of their precise and exhaustive knowledge of the mysteries of God's nature, the doctors of the Jewish community had drawn up comprehensive formulas for all His methods of dealing with mankind, and anathematised those who ventured to cast doubts upon their accuracy.

"Whatever sceptic could inquire for, For every why they had a wherefore,"

the unanswerable tone of which lay necessarily and exclusively in the implicit and tenacious faith of the hearer. Now, faith may be governed by conditions widely different from those that regulate scientific knowledge, but if its object be something that lies beyond the ken of the human intellect it must be based either upon a supernatural intuition accorded to the individual or upon a divine revelation vouchsafed to all. In the former case it cannot be embodied in a religious dogma; in the latter it cannot—or should not—be accepted without thorough discussion and due verification of the alleged historical fact of the divine message.

This is the gist of Agur's reasoning against the allwise theologians of the Jewish Church.

These sapient specialists, whose intellects were nurtured upon the highest and most abstruse speculations and who could readily account for all the movements of the Deity with a wealth of detail surpassing that of a French police dossier, were utterly and notoriously ignorant of the rudimentary laws of science which every inquisitive mind might learn and every educated man could verify. Now, as truth is one, Agur reasoned, how comes it that the persons who thus lay claim to a thorough knowledge of the more difficult, are absolutely ignorant of the more simple? Whence, in a word, did they obtain their perfect acquaintance with the mysteries of the divine nature and the mechanism of the universe, the elementary laws of which are yet unknown to them? Surely not from any source accessible to all; for Agur, possessing equally favourable opportunities for observation and quite as keen an interest in the subject, not only failed to make any similar discoveries, but even to find any confirmation of theirs. For this he sarcastically accounts by admitting that he must be considerably more stupid than the common run of mankind, in fact, that he is wholly devoid of human understanding—a confession which he evidently expects every reasonable man to repeat after him to those who assert that crass ignorance of fundamental facts is an aid to the highest kind of knowledge.

"I have worried myself about God, and succeeded not, For I am more stupid than other men, And in me there is no human understanding: Neither have I learned wisdom, So that I might comprehend the science of sacred things."

Still he is a very docile disciple, and, having failed to make any discoveries of his own, would gladly accept those of a qualified master—of one who endeavours to know before setting out to teach and who prefaces his account of the wonders of the unseen world by pointing out the bridge over which he passed thither, from this. But does such a genuine teacher exist?

"Who has ascended into heaven and come down again? Who can gather the wind in his fists? Who can bind the waters in a garment? Who can grasp all the ends of the earth? Such an one would I question about God: 'What is his name? And what the name of his sons, if thou knowest it?'"

And if even specialists do not fulfil these conditions, are we not forced to conclude that their so-called knowledge is a fraud and its subject-matter unknowable?

Agur's views of right conduct—if we may judge by the general tenour of his fragmentary sayings and by the principle embodied in his sixth and last sentence, in which he rejects as a motive for action "a high hope for a low heaven"—are marked by the essential characteristics of true morality. An action performed for the sake of any recompense, human or divine, transitory or eternal, is egotistic by its nature, and therefore not moral; and the difference between the man who, in his unregenerate days, cut his neighbours' throats in order to enjoy their property, and after his conversion gave all his goods to feed the poor, in order to enjoy eternal happiness in heaven, is more interesting to the legislator than to the moralist. But, were it otherwise, Agur holds that, even from a purely practical point of view, all the honours and rewards which mankind can bestow upon their greatest benefactor would be too dearly purchased by a ruffled temper; in other words, mere freedom from positive pain is a greater boon than the highest pleasure purchased at the price of a little suffering.

Agur's politics gave as much offence to the priests as his theology. Like most original thinkers, he is a believer in the aristocracy of talent, and he makes no secret of his preference of a hereditary nobility to those upstarts from the ranks of the people who possess no intellectual gifts to recommend them. For the former have at least training and heredity to guide them, whereas the latter are devoid even of these recommendations. These views furnished the grounds for the charge of Sadduceeism preferred against him by his adversary.

To what extent Indian thought, and in particular the metaphysics and ethics of Buddhism, influenced Agur's religious speculations, it is impossible to do more than conjecture. Personally I am disposed to think that he was well acquainted and indeed thoroughly imbued with the teachings of the Indian reformer. In the third century B.C., as already pointed out, the spread of the new religion through Bactria, Persia, Egypt, and Asia Minor was rapid. Moreover, the turn taken by the speculations of cultured Hebrews of that epoch was precisely such as we should expect to find, if it stood to Buddhistic preaching in the relation of effect to cause. The scepticism of the philosophers of the Old Testament, not excepting that of Agur who may aptly be termed the Hebrew Voltaire, was not wholly destructive. Its sweeping negations in the spheres of metaphysics and theology were amply compensated for—if one can speak of compensation in such a connection—by the positive, humane, and wise maxims it lays down in the domain of ethics. And the cornerstone of the morality of all three—Job, Koheleth, and Agur—would seem to be virtually identical with that formulated in the Indian aphorism:

"Alone the doer doth the deed; alone he tastes the fruit it brings; Alone he wanders through life's maze; alone redeems himself from being."

Buddhistic influence in the case of Agur, therefore, is all the more probable that it admirably dovetails with all the circumstances of time and place known to us, even on the supposition, which I am myself inclined to favour, that Agur lived and wrote in Palestine. This probability is greatly enhanced by the striking affinity between the Buddhist conception of revealed religions, of professional priests and of practical wisdom, and that enshrined in the few verses of Agur which we possess. It is raised to a degree akin to certainty by the actual occurrence of Indian images, similes, and even concrete aphorisms in the short fragment of seven strophes preserved to us in the Book of Proverbs.

* * * * *

THE POEM OF JOB

TRANSLATION OF THE RESTORED TEXT

* * * * *

PROLOGUE

CHAP. I. A.V.]

1 There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil.

2 And there were born unto him seven sons and three daughters.

3 His substance also was seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and a very great household; so that this man was the greatest of all the men of the east.

4 And his sons went and feasted in their houses, every one his day; and sent and called for their three sisters to eat and to drink with them.

5 And it was so, when the days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and sanctified them, and rose up early in the morning, and offered burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said, It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually.

6 Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them.

7 And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth and from walking up and down in it.

8 And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?

9 Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, Doth Job fear God for nought?

10 Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land.

11 But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.

12 And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord.

13 And there was a day when his sons and his daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother's house:

14 And there came a messenger unto Job, and said, The oxen were plowing, and the asses were feeding beside them:

15 And the Sabeans fell upon them, and took them away; yea, they have slain the servants with the edge of the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

16 While he was yet speaking, there came also another, and said, The fire of God is fallen from heaven, and hath burned up the sheep, and the servants, and consumed them; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

17 While he was yet speaking, there came also another, and said, The Chaldeans made out three bands, and fell upon the camels, and have carried them away, yea, and slain the servants with the edge of the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

18 _While he was yet speaking, there came also another, and said, Thy sons and thy daughters_ were _eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother's house:

19 And, behold, there came a great wind from the wilderness, and smote the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young men, and they are dead; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

20 Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground and worshipped,

21 And said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

22 In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.

CHAP. II. A.V.]

1 Again there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them to present himself before the Lord.

2 And the Lord said unto Satan, From whence comest thou? And Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

3 And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil? and still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me against him, to destroy him without cause.

4 And Satan answered the Lord, and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life.

5 But put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face.

6 And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold he is in thine hand; but save his life.

7 So went Satan forth from the presence of the Lord, and smote Job with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto his crown.

8 And he took him a potsherd to scrape himself withal; and he sat down among the ashes.

9 Then said his wife unto him, Dost thou still retain thine integrity? curse God, and die.

10 But he said unto her, Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh. What! shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil? In all this did not Job sin with his lips.

11 Now when Job's three friends heard of all this evil that was come upon him, they came every one from his own place; Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite: for they had made an appointment together to come to mourn with him and to comfort him.

12 And when they lifted up their eyes afar off, and knew him not, they lifted up their voice, and wept; and they rent every one his mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven.

13 So they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great.

CHAP. III. A.V.

1 After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his day.

2 And Job spake, and said:

I

JOB:

Would the day had perished wherein I was born, And the night which said: behold, a man child! Would that God on high had not called for it, And that light had not shone upon it!

II

Would that darkness and gloom had claimed it for their own; Would that clouds had hovered over it; Would it never had been joined to the days of the year, Nor entered into the number of the months!

III

Would that that night had been barren, And that rejoicing had not come therein; That they had cursed it who curse the days,[196] That the stars of its twilight had waxed dim!

IV

Would it had yearned for light but found none, Nor beheld the eye-lids of the morning dawn! For it closed not the door of my mother's womb, Nor hid sorrow from mine eyes.

V

Why died I not straight from the womb? Why, having come out of the belly, did I not expire? Why did the knees meet me? And why the breasts, that I might suck?

VI

For then should I have lain still and been quiet, I should have slept and now had been at rest, With the kings and counsellors of the earth, Who built desolate places for themselves.

VII

Or with princes, once rich in gold, Who filled their houses with silver, I should be as being not, as an hidden untimely birth, Like infants which never saw the light!

VIII

There the wicked cease from troubling, And there the weary be at rest; There the prisoners repose together, Nor hear the taskmaster's voice.

IX

Why gives he light to the afflicted, And life unto the bitter in soul, Who yearn for death, but it cometh not, And dig for it more than for buried treasures?

X

Hail to the man who hath found a grave! Then only hath God "hedged him in."[197] For sighing is become my bread, And my crying is unto me as water.

XI

For the thing I dreaded cometh upon me, And that I trembled at befalleth me. I am not in safety, neither have I rest; Nor quiet, but trouble cometh alway.

XII

ELIPHAZ:

Lo, thou hast instructed many, Thy words have upholden him that was stumbling. Now hath thine own turn come, And thou thyself art worried and troubled.

XIII

Was not the fear of God thy confidence? And the uprightness of thy ways thy hope? Bethink, I pray thee, who ever perished guiltless? Or where were the righteous cut off?

XIV

I saw them punished that plough iniquity, And them that sow sorrow reap the same; By the blast of God they perish, And by the breath of his nostrils are they consumed.[198]

XV

Now a word was wafted unto me by stealth,[199] And mine ear received the whisper thereof; In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth upon man.

XVI

Fear came upon me and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spectre sped before my face; The hair of my flesh bristled up.

XVII

It stood, but I could not discern its form. I heard a gentle voice:— "Shall a mortal be more just than God? Shall a man be more pure than his maker?

XVIII

Behold, in his servants he puts no trust,— Nay, his angels[200] he chargeth with folly;— How much less in the dwellers in houses of clay, Whose foundations are down in the dust.

XIX

Between dawn and evening they are destroyed: They perish and no man recketh. Is not their tent-pole torn up?[201] And bereft of wisdom, they die."

XX

Call now, if so be any will answer thee; And to which of the angels wilt thou turn? For his own wrath killeth the foolish man, And envy slayeth the silly one.

XXI

His children are far from safety; They are crushed, and there is none to save them. The hungry eateth up their harvest, And the thirsty swilleth their milk.

XXII

For affliction springeth not out of the dust, Nor doth sorrow sprout up from the ground;— For man is born unto trouble, Even as the sparks fly upward.

XXIII

But I would seek unto God, And unto God would I commit my cause, Who doth great things and unfathomable, Marvellous things without number.

XXIV

He giveth rain unto the earth, And sendeth waters upon the fields; To set up on high those that be low, That they who mourn may be helped to victory.

XXV

He catcheth the wise in their own craftiness, And the counsel of the cunning is thwarted; Wherefore they encounter darkness in the daytime, And at noonday grope as in the night.

XXVI

The poor he delivereth from the sword of their mouth, And the needy out of the hand of the mighty; Thus the miserable man obtaineth hope, And iniquity stoppeth her mouth.

XXVII

Happy is the man whom God correcteth; Therefore spurn not thou the chastening of the Almighty: For he maketh sore and bindeth up; He smiteth, and his hands make whole.

XXVIII

He shall deliver thee in six troubles, Yea in seven there shall no evil touch thee:— In famine he shall redeem thee from death, And in war from the power of the sword.

XXIX

Thou shall be hid from the scourge of the tongue,[202] Neither shalt thou fear misfortune when it cometh; At destruction and famine thou shalt laugh, Nor shalt dread the beasts of the earth.

XXX

For thy tent shall abide in peace, And thou shalt visit thy dwelling and miss nought therein; Thou shalt likewise know that thy seed will be great, And thine offspring as the grass of the earth.

XXXI

Thou shalt go down to thy grave in the fulness of thy days, Ripe as a shock of corn brought home in its season. Lo, this have we found out, so it is! This we have heard, and take it thou to heart.

XXXII

JOB:

Oh that my "wrath" were thoroughly weighed, And my woe laid against it in the balances! For it would prove heavier than the sands of the sea; Therefore are my words wild.

XXXIII

For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; My spirit drinketh in the venom thereof. The terrors of God move against me, He useth me like to an enemy.

XXXIV

Doth the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or loweth the ox over his fodder? Would one eat things insipid without salt? Is there taste in the white of raw eggs?

XXXV

Oh that I might have my request, And that God would grant me the thing I long for! Even that it would please him to destroy me, That he would let go his hand and cut me off!

XXXVI

Then should I yet have comfort, Yea, I would exult in my relentless pain. For that, at least, would be my due from God, Since I have never withstood the words of the Holy One.

XXXVII

What is my strength that I should hope? And what mine end that I should be patient? Is my strength the strength of stones? Or is my flesh of brass?

XXXVIII

Am I not utterly bereft of help? And is not rescue driven wholly away from me? Is not pity the duty of the friend, Who, else, turneth away from the fear of God?

XXXIX

My brethren have disappointed me as a torrent, They pass away as a stream of brooks, Which were blackish by reason of the ice, Wherein the snow hideth itself.

XL

The caravans of Tema sought for them, The companies of Sheba hoped for them. But when the sun warmed them they vanished; When it waxed hot they were consumed from their place.

XLI

Did I say: Bestow aught upon me? Or give a bribe for me of your substance? Or deliver me from the enemy's hand? Or redeem me from the hand of the mighty?

XLII

Teach me and I will hold my tongue; And cause me to discern wherein I have erred. How cutting are your "righteous" words! But what doth your arguing reprove?

XLIII

Do ye imagine to rebuke words? But the words of the desperate are spoken to the wind. Will ye even assail me, the blameless one? And harrow up your friend?

XLIV

But now vouchsafe to turn unto me, For surely I will not lie to your face. I pray you, return; let no wrong be done. Return, for justice abideth still within me.

XLV

Is there iniquity in my tongue? Cannot my palate discern misfortunes? Hath not man warfare upon earth? And are not his days like to those of an hireling?

XLVI

As a slave panting for the shade, and finding it not, As an hireling awaiting the wage for his work, So to me months of sorrow are allotted, And wearisome nights are appointed to me.

XLVII

Lying down I exclaim: When shall I arise? And I toss from side to side till the dawning of the day;[203] My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust, My skin grows rigid and breaks up again.

XLVIII

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And have come to an end without hope;[204] Remember, I pray, that my life is wind, That mine eye shall see good no more.

XLIX

As the cloud is dispelled and vanisheth away, So he that goes down to the grave shall not come up again; He shall never return to his house, Neither shall his place know him any more.

L

I too will not restrain my mouth, I will speak out in the bitterness of my soul. Am I a sea or a sea-monster,[205] That thou settest a watch over me?

LI

When I say: "My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint;" Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me with visions.

LII

Then my soul would have chosen strangling, And death by my own resolve: But I spurned it, for I shall not live for ever; Let me be, for my days are a breath.

LIII

What is man that thou shouldst magnify him? And that thou shouldst set thine heart upon him? That thou shouldst visit him every morning, And try him every moment?[206]

LIV

Why wilt thou not look away from me? Nor leave me in peace while there is breath in my throat? Why hast thou set me up as a butt, So that I am become a target for thee?

LV

Why dost thou not rather pardon my misdeed, And take away mine iniquity? For now I must lay myself down in the dust, And thou shalt seek me, but I shall not be.

LVI

BILDAD:

How long wilt thou utter these things, And shall the words of thy mouth be like a storm wind? Doth God pervert judgment? Or doth the Almighty corrupt justice?

LVII

If thou wouldst seek unto God, And make thy supplication to the Almighty, He would hear thy prayer, And restore the house of thy blamelessness.

LVIII

For inquire, I pray thee, of the bygone age, And give heed to the search of the forefathers; Shall they not teach thee, And utter words out of their heart?

LIX

Can the papyrus grow without marsh? Can the Nile-reed shoot up without water? Whilst still in its greenness uncut, It withereth before any herb.

LX

Such is the end of all that forget God, And even thus shall the hope of the impious perish, Whose hope is as gossamer threads, And whose trust is as a spider's web.

LXI

For he leans upon his house, And has a firm footing to which he cleaves; He is green in the glow of the sun, And his branch shooteth forth in his garden.

LXII

But his roots are entangled in a heap of stones, And rocky soil keeps hold upon him; It destroyeth him from his place, Then that denying him saith: "I have not seen thee."

LXIII

Behold, this is the "joy" of his lot, And out of the dust shall others grow. Lo! God will not cast out a perfect man, Neither will he take evil-doers by the hand.

LXIV

He will yet fill thy mouth with laughing And thy lips with rejoicing. They that hate thee shall be clothed with shame, And the tent of the wicked shall disappear.

LXV

JOB:

I know it is so of a truth; For how should man be in the right against God? If he long to contend with him, He cannot answer him one of a thousand.

LXVI

Wise is he in heart and mighty in strength: Who could venture against him and remain safe?— Against him who moveth mountains and knoweth not That he hath overturned them in his anger.

LXVII

He shaketh the earth out of her place, And the inhabitants thereof quake with fear; He commandeth the sun and it riseth not, And he sealeth up the stars.[207]

LXVIII

He alone spreadeth out the heavens, And treadeth upon the heights of the sea; He doth great things past finding out, Yea, and wonders without number.[208]

LXIX

Lo, he glideth by me and I see him not; And he passeth on, but I perceive him not. Behold, he taketh away, and who can hinder him? Who will say unto him: "What dost thou?"

LXX

God will not withdraw his anger; The very helpers of the sea-dragon[209] crouch under him. How much less shall I answer him, And choose out my words to argue with him?

LXXI

I must make supplication unto his judgment, Who doth not answer me, though I am righteous, Who would sweep me away with a tempest, And multiply my wounds without cause!

LXXII

He will not suffer me to take my breath, But filleth me with bitterness. If strength be aught, lo, he is strong, And if judgment, who shall arraign him?

LXXIII

Though I were just, my own mouth would condemn me: Though I were faultless, he would make me crooked. Faultless I am, I set life at naught; I spurn my being, therefore I speak out.

LXXIV

He destroyeth the upright and the wicked, When his scourge slayeth at unawares. He scoffeth at the trial of the innocent: The earth is given into the hand of the wicked.

LXXV

My days are swifter than a runner: They flee away, they have seen no good; They glide along like papyrus-boats, Like the eagle swooping upon its prey.

LXXVI

If I say: "I will forget my complaint, I will gladden my face and be cheerful;" Then I shudder at all my sorrows: I know thou wilt not hold me guiltless.

LXXVII

If I washed myself with snow, And cleansed my hands with lye, Thou wouldst plunge me in the ditch, So that mine own garments would loathe me.

LXXVIII

Would he were like unto myself, that I might answer him, That we might come together in judgment! Would there were an umpire between us, Who might lay his hand upon us both!

LXXIX

Let him but withdraw from me his rod, And let not dread of him terrify me; Then would I speak and not fear him, For before myself I am not so.[210]

LXXX

My soul is aweary of life, I will let loose my complaint against God; I will say unto God: Hold me not guilty; Show me wherefore thou contendest with me.

LXXXI

Is it meet that thou shouldst oppress, Shouldst thrust aside the work of thine hands? Seest thou as man seeth? Are thy days as the days of mortals?

LXXXII

For thou inquirest after mine iniquity, And searchest after my sin, Though thou knowest that I am not wicked, And that there is none who can deliver out of thine hand.

LXXXIII

Thine hand hath made and fashioned me, And now hast thou turned to destroy me; Remember, I pray thee, that thou hast formed me as clay; And now wilt thou grind me to dust again?

LXXXIV

Didst thou not pour me out as milk, And curdle me like cheese? Hast thou not clothed me with skin and flesh? And knitted me with bones and sinews?

LXXXV

Thou enduedst me with life and grace; And thy care hath cherished my spirit. And yet these things hadst thou hid in thy heart! I know that this was in thee!

LXXXVI

Had I sinned, thou wouldst have watched me, Nor wouldst have acquitted me of my wrongdoing. Had I been wicked, woe unto me! And though righteous, I dare not to lift up my head.

LXXXVII

As a lion thou huntest me, who am soaked in misery, And ever showest thyself marvellous[211] against me! While I live, thou smitest me ever anew, And lettest thy wrath wax great against me.

LXXXVIII

Wherefore, then, didst thou bring me out of the womb? Would I had then given up the ghost, and no eye had seen me! I should now be as though I had never been; I had been borne from the womb to the grave.

LXXXIX

Are not the days of my life but few, So that he might let me be, while I take heart a little Before I depart whence I shall not return, To the land of darkness and of gloom?

XC

ZOPHAR:

Shall the multitude of words be left unanswered? And shall the prattler[212] be deemed in the right? Should men hold their peace at thy babbling? And when thou jeerest, shall none make thee ashamed?

XCI

But oh that God would speak, And open his lips against thee, And that he would show thee the secrets of wisdom That they are as marvels to the understanding!

XCII

It[213] is high as heaven; what canst thou do? Deeper than hell; what canst thou know? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, And broader than the ocean.

XCIII

For he knoweth men of deceit; He seeth wickedness and needeth not to gauge it. Thus[214] the empty man gets understanding, And the wild-ass' colt is born anew as man.

XCIV

If thou make ready thine heart, And stretch out thine hands towards him, Then shalt thou lift up thy face, And in time of affliction be fearless.

XCV

For then shalt thou forget thy misery, And remember it as waters that have passed away; The darkness shall be as morning, And thine age shall be brighter than the noonday.

XCVI

Thou shalt be secure because there is hope, Thou shalt look around and take thy rest in safety; Thou shalt lie down and none shall startle thee, Yea, many shall make suit unto thee.

XCVII

But the eyes of the wicked shall fail, And refuge shall vanish from before them; Their hope shall be the giving up of the ghost; For with him is wisdom and might.

XCVIII

JOB:

No doubt but ye are clever people, And wisdom shall die with you; I too have understanding as well as ye; Just, upright is my way.

XCIX

He that is at ease, scorneth the judgments of Shaddai.[215] His foot stands firm in the time of trial. The tents of robbers prosper, And they that provoke God are secure.

C

But ask, I beseech you, the beasts, And the fowls of the air, and they shall tell thee; Or speak to the earth and it shall teach thee, And the fishes of the sea shall declare unto thee.

CI

Is not the soul of every living thing in his hand, And the breath of all mankind? Doth not the ear try words As the mouth tasteth its meat?

CII

For there is no wisdom with the aged,[216] Nor understanding in length of days; With him is wisdom and strength; He hath counsel and understanding.

CIII

Behold he breaketh down and it cannot be builded anew: He shutteth up a man, and who can open to him? Lo, he withholdeth the waters and they dry up, He letteth them loose and they overwhelm the earth.

CIV

With him is strength and wisdom, The erring one and his error are his, Who leadeth away counsellors barefoot, And rendereth the judges fools.

CV

He bringeth back kings into their mausoleums, And overthroweth the nobles; He withdraweth the speech of the trusty, And taketh away the understanding of the aged.

CVI

He poureth scorn upon princes, And looseth the girdle of the strong; He discovereth deep things out of darkness, And bringeth gloom unto light.

CVII

He stealeth the heart of the chiefs of the earth, And maketh them wander in a pathless wilderness So that they grope in the dark without light, And stagger to and fro like a drunken man.

CVIII

Lo, mine eye hath seen all this, Mine ear hath heard and understood it. What ye know, the same do I know also; I am nowise inferior to you.

CIX

But now I would speak to the Almighty, And I long to argue with God; For ye are weavers of lies, Ye all are patchers of inanities.

CX

Oh that ye would all of you hold your peace, And that should stand you in wisdom's stead! Hear, I beseech you, the reasoning of my mouth, And hearken to the pleadings of my lips!

CXI

Will ye discourse wickedly for God? And utter lies on his behalf?[217] Will ye accept his person by dint of trickery? Will ye contend for God with deception?

CXII

Were it well for you should he search you out? Can ye dupe him as ye dupe men? Will he not surely rebuke you, If ye secretly[218] accept his person?

CXIII

Shall not his majesty, then, make you afraid? And his dread seize hold of you? Will not your adages become as ashes, Your arguments even as bulwarks of clay?

CXIV

Hold your peace that I may speak, And let come upon me what will! I shall take my life in my teeth, And put my soul in mine hand.

CXV

Lo, let him kill me, I cherish hope no more, Only I will justify my way before his face. This too will aid my triumph, That no wicked one dares appear in his sight.

CXVI

Behold now, I have ordered my cause; I know that I shall be justified. Who is he that will plead with me? Only do not two things unto me!

CXVII

Withdraw thine hand from me, And let not dread of thee make me afraid. Then call thou and I will answer, Or let me speak and answer thou unto me.

CXVIII

How many are mine iniquities? Make me to know my misdeeds. Wherefore hidest thou thy face, And holdest me for thine enemy?

CXIX

Wilt thou scare a leaf driven to and fro? And wilt thou pursue the dry stubble? That thou writest down bitter things against me, And imputest to me the errors of my youth.

CXX

Thou observest all my paths, And puttest my feet into the stocks, Thy chain weigheth heavy upon me, And cutteth into my feet.[219]

CXXI

Man that is born of a woman, Poor in days and rich in trouble; He cometh forth like a flower and fadeth, He fleeth as a shadow and abideth not.

CXXII

And upon such an one dost thou open thine eyes! And him thou bringest into judgment with thee! Though he is gnawed as a rotten thing, As a garment that is moth-eaten.

CXXIII

If his days are determined upon earth, If the number of his months are with thee; Look then away from him that he may rest, Till he shall accomplish his day, as an hireling.

CXXIV

For there is a future for the tree, And hope remaineth to the palm: Cut down, it will sprout again, And its tender branch will not cease.

CXXV

Though its roots wax old in the earth And its stock lie buried in mould, Yet through vapour of water will it bud, And bring forth boughs like a plant.

CXXVI

But man dieth, and lieth outstretched; He giveth up the ghost, where is he then? He lieth down and riseth not up; Till heaven be no more he shall not awake.

CXXVII

Oh that thou wouldst hide me in the grave! That thou wouldst secrete me till thy wrath be passed! That thou wouldst appoint me a set time and remember me! If so be man could die and yet live on!

CXXVIII

All the days of my warfare I then would wait, Till my relief should come; Thou wouldst call and I would answer thee, Thou wouldst yearn after the work of thine hands.

CXXIX

But now thou renumberest my steps, Thou dost not forgive my failing; Thou sealest my transgressions in a bag, And thou still keepest adding to my guilt.

CXXX

ELIPHAZ:

Should a wise man utter empty knowledge, And fill his belly with the east wind? Should he reason with bootless prattle? Or with speeches that profit him nothing?

CXXXI

Yea, thou makest void the fear of God, And weakenest respect before him; For thine own iniquity instructeth thy mouth, And thou choosest the tongue of the crafty.

CXXXII

Art thou the first man born? Or wast thou made before the hills? Wast thou heard in the council of God? And hast thou drawn wisdom unto thyself?

CXXXIII

What knowest thou that we know not? What understandest thou which is not in us? Doth the solace of God not suffice unto thee, And a word to thee whispered softly?

CXXXIV

Why doth thine heart carry thee away, And what do thine eyes wink at, That thou turnest thy spirit against God, And lettest go such words from thy mouth?

CXXXV

Behold he putteth no trust in his saints; Yea, the heavens are not clean in his sight; How much less the foul and corrupt one,— Man, who lappeth up wickedness like water.

CXXXVI

What the wise announce unto us, Their fathers did not withhold it from them; Unto them alone the land was given, And no stranger passed among them.[220]

CXXXVII

The wicked man travaileth all his days with pain, And few are the years appointed to the oppressor: A sound of dread is in his ears: In prosperity the destroyer shall overtake him.

CXXXVIII

He has no hope of return out of darkness, And he is waited for by the sword. The day of gloom shall terrify him, Distress and anguish shall fasten upon him.

CXXXIX

For he stretched out his arm against God, And girded himself against the Almighty: Rushing upon him with a stiff neck, Guarded by the thick bosses of his buckler.

CXL

The glow shall dry up his branches, And his blossom shall be snapped by the storm-wind. Let him not trust in vanity—he is deluded, For his barter[221] shall prove worthless.

CXLI

His offshoot shall wither before his time, And his branch shall not be green; He shall shake off his unripe grape, like the vine, And shall shed his flower like the olive.

CXLII

For the tribe of the wicked shall be barren, And fire shall consume the tents of bribery: They conceive mischief, and bring forth disaster, And their belly breeds abortion.

CXLIII

JOB:

Many such things have I heard before. Stinging comforters are ye all! Shall idle words have an end? What pricks thee that thou answerest?

CXLIV

I, too, could discourse as ye do, If your souls were in my soul's stead. I would inspirit you with my mouth, Nor would I grudge the moving of my lips.

CXLV

But he hath so jaded me that I am benumbed; His whole host[222] hath seized me. His wrath hackles me and pursues me, He gnashes upon me with his teeth.

CXLVI

The arrows of his myriads have stricken me, He whets his sword, fixing his eyes upon me. They smite me on the cheek outrageously, They mass themselves together against me.

CXLVII

God hath turned me over to the ungodly, And delivered me into the hands of the wicked. I was at ease, but he clove me asunder, He throttled me and shook me to pieces.

CXLVIII

He sets me up for his target; His archers compass me round about; He rives my reins asunder, and spareth not, He poureth out my gall upon the ground.

CXLIX

With breach upon breach he breaketh me, He rusheth upon me like a warrior; Sackcloth and ashes cover me, And my horn has been laid in the dust.

CL

My face is aglow with weeping And darkness abides on my eyelids; Though on my hands there is no evil, And my prayer is pure!

CLI

Oh earth! cover not thou my blood! And let my cry find no resting-place! Even now behold my witness is in heaven, And my voucher is on high.

CLII

My friends laugh me wantonly to scorn; Mine eye poureth tears unto God. Let him adjudge between man and God, And between man and his fellow.

CLIII

Soon will the wailing-women come, And I go the way I shall not return. My spirit is spent, the grave is ready for me Truly I am scoffed at.

CLIV

Hold still my pledge in thy keeping, Who then will be my voucher?[223] He yielded his friends as a prey, And the eyes of his children must shrivel up.

CLV

He hath made me a by-word of the peoples, And they spit into my face. My eye is dim by dint of sorrow, And all my members are as a shadow.

CLVI

At this the upright are appalled, And the just bridles up against the impious. But the righteous holds on his way, And the clean-handed waxeth ever stronger.

CLVII

But as for you all—do ye return, For I discern not one wise man among you. My days, my thoughts have passed away; My heart's desires are cut asunder.

CLVIII

If I still hope, it is for my house—the tomb. I have made my bed in the darkness. I have said unto the grave, "My Mother," And to the maggot, "Sister mine."

CLIX

And my hope—where is it now? My bliss—who shall behold it?[224] They go down to the bars of the pit, When our rest together is in the dust.

CLX

BILDAD:

When wilt thou make an end of words? Reflect, and then let us speak! Wherefore are we counted as beasts? Deemed silenced in thy sight?

CLXI

Shall the earth be deserted for thy sake? And shall the rock be removed from its place? Still the light of the wicked shall be douted, And the spark of his fire shall not twinkle.

CLXII

The light in his tent shall be dark; And his taper above him shall be put out. The steps of his strength shall be straitened, And his own design shall ruin him.

CLXIII

For he is tangled in the net by his own feet, And he walketh upon a snare. The slings shall catch him; Many terrors rage menacingly round him.

CLXIV

Hunger shall dog his footsteps; Misery and ruin stand ready by his side: The limbs of his body[225] shall be gnawed, Devoured by the firstborn of death.[226]

CLXV

He shall be dragged out from his stronghold, And he shall be brought to the king of terrors;[227] The memory of him shall vanish from the earth, He shall be driven from light into darkness.

CLXVI

He shall have nor son nor offspring among his people, And he shall have no name above the ground; None shall survive in his dwellings; Strangers shall dwell in his tent.

CLXVII

They of the west are astonied at him, And those of the east stand aghast: Such are the dwellings of the wicked, And this his place who knoweth not God.

CLXVIII

JOB:

How long will ye harrow my soul, And crush me with words? Already ten times have ye insulted me, Ever incensing me anew.

CLXIX

If indeed ye will glorify yourselves above me, And prove me guilty of blasphemy; Know, then, that God hath wronged me, And hath compassed me round with his net!

CLXX

Lo, I cry out against violence, but I am not heard; I cry aloud, but there is no judgment. He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass; And he hath set darkness in my paths.

CLXXI

He hath stripped me of my glory, And taken the crown from my head. On all sides hath he ruined me, and I am undone; And mine hope hath he felled like a tree.

CLXXII

He hath kindled against me his wrath, And looketh on me as one of his foes. His troops throng together on my way, And encamp round about my tent.

CLXXIII

He hath put my brethren far from me, And mine acquaintance are estranged from me; My kinsfolk stay away from me, And my bosom friends have forgotten me.

CLXXIV

They that dwell in my house, and my maids, As an alien am I in their eyes. I call my servant, and he giveth me no answer, I must supplicate unto him with my mouth.

CLXXV

My breath is irksome to my wife, And my entreaty to the children of my body.[228] Yea, mere lads despise me: When I arise, they talk about me.

CLXXVI

All my cherished friends abhor me, And they whom I loved are turned against me; My skin cleaveth to my bones, And my teeth are falling out.

CLXXVII

Have pity, have pity on me, O my friends! For the hand of God hath smitten me. Why do ye persecute me like God, And are not satiated with my flesh?

CLXXVIII

Oh would but that my words, Oh would that they were written down! Consigned to writing for ever, Or engraven upon a rock!

CLXXIX

But I know that my avenger liveth, Though it be at the[229] end upon my dust; My witness will avenge these things, And a curse alight upon mine enemies.

CLXXX

My reins within me are consumed, Because you say: "How we shall persecute him!" Fear, for yourselves, the sword, For "wrath overtaketh iniquities."

CLXXXI

ZOPHAR:

It is not thus that my thoughts inspire me, Nor is this the eternal law that I have known.[230] No; the triumph of the wicked is shortlived, And the joy of the ungodly is but for a twinkling.

CLXXXII

Though his height tower aloft to the heavens, And his head reach up to the clouds, Yet shall he perish for ever like dung, They who have seen him shall ask: "Where is he?"

CLXXXIII

He flitteth like a dream and shall not be found, Yea, he shall be chased away as a vision of the night; His hands having crushed the needy, Must restore the substance, and he cannot help it.

CLXXXIV

He hath swallowed down riches and shall disgorge them anew; They shall be driven out of his belly. He hath sucked in the poison of asps, The viper's tongue shall slay him.

CLXXXV

He shall not gaze upon the rivers, The brooks of honey and milk; He must restore the gain and shall not swallow it, His lucre shall be as sand which he cannot chew.

CLXXXVI

For the poor he had crushed and forsaken; Had robbed an house but shall not build it up. Nought had escaped from his greed, Therefore shall his wealth not endure.

CLXXXVII

In the fulness of his abundance he shall be in straits, Every hand of the wretched shall come upon him: He[231] shall cast the fury of his wrath upon him, And shall rain down upon him terrors.

CLXXXVIII

When he fleeth from the iron weapon, Then the arrow of steel shall transfix him; He draweth, and it cometh out of his back, And the glittering steel out of his gall.

CLXXXIX

Terrors will trample upon him, All darkness is hid in store for him; A fire not kindled[232] shall consume him, What remaineth in his tent shall be devoured thereby.

CXC

The heavens reveal his iniquity, And the earth riseth up against him: This is the wicked man's portion from God, And the heritage appointed him by Elohim.

CXCI

JOB:

Hearken diligently to my speech, And let that stand me in your comfort's stead! Suffer me that I may speak; And after that I have spoken, mock on!

CXCII

As for me, is my complaint to men? And how should not my spirit be impatient? Look upon me, and tremble, And lay your hand upon your mouth![233]

CXCIII

Even when I remember, I am dismayed, And trembling taketh hold on my flesh. Wherefore do the wicked live? Become old, yea, wax mighty in strength?

CXCIV

Their houses are safe from fear, Neither is the rod of God upon them; Their bull genders and faileth not, Their cow casteth not her calf.

CXCV

Their seed is established in their sight, And their offspring before their eyes; They send forth their little ones like a flock, And their children skip about.

CXCVI

They take down the timbrel and the harp, And delight in the sound of the bagpipe; They while away their days in bliss, And in a twinkling go down to the grave.[234]

CXCVII

And yet they say unto God: "Depart from us, We desire not the knowledge of thy ways." Yet hold they not happiness in their own hands? Is he not heedless of the counsel of the wicked?

CXCVIII

How oft is "the lamp of evil-doers put out"? And how often doth "ruin" overwhelm them? How oft are they as stubble before the wind, And as chaff that the storm carries away?

CXCIX

Ye say, "God hoards punishment for the[235] children." Let him rather requite the wicked himself that he may feel it! His own eyes should behold his downfall And he himself should drain the Almighty's wrath!

CC

If his sons are honoured,[236] he will not know it, And if dishonoured, he will not perceive it. Only in his own flesh doth he feel pain, And for his own soul will he lament.

CCI

Is the wicked taught understanding by God? And does he judge the man of blood? Nay, he[237] filleth his milk vessels with milk, And supplieth his bones with marrow.

CCII

But the guiltless dies with embittered soul, And hath never enjoyed a pleasure; Then they alike lie down in the dust, And the worms shall cover them both.

CCIII

Behold I know your thoughts, And the plots which ye wrongfully weave against me. And how will ye comfort me in vain, Since of your answers nought but falsehood remains?

CCIV

ELIPHAZ:

Can a man be profitable unto God? Only unto himself is the wise man serviceable. Is it a boon to the Almighty that thou art righteous? Or is it gain to him that thou makest thy way perfect?

CCV

Will he reprove thee for thy fear of him? Will he enter with thee into judgment for that? Is not rather thy wickedness great? Are not thine iniquities numberless?

CCVI

For thou hast taken a pledge from thy brother for nought, And stripped the naked of their clothing; Thou hast not given water to the weary to drink, And hast withholden bread from the hungry.

CCVII

But as for the mighty man, he held the land, And the honoured man dwelt in it. Thou hast sent widows away empty, And the arms of the fatherless have been broken.

CCVIII

Therefore snares are round about thee, And sudden fear troubleth thee; Thy light hath become darkness, thou canst not see, And a flood of waters covereth thee.

CCIX

Doth not God look down from the height of heaven, And crush the mighty for that they are grown haughty, Which say unto God: "Depart from us," And "What can the Almighty do against us?"

CCX

And he forsooth "shall fill their houses with goods," And "be heedless of the counsel of the wicked": No; the righteous shall look on and be glad, And the innocent shall laugh them to scorn.

CCXI

Befriend now thyself with him, and thou shalt be safe, Thereby shall good come unto thee. Receive, I pray thee, instruction from his mouth, And treasure up his words in thine heart.

CCXII

If thou turnest to God and humblest thyself, If thou remove iniquity from thy tent, Then shalt thou have delight in the Almighty, And shalt lift up thy face unto God.

CCXIII

Thou shalt pray unto him and he shall hear thee, And thou shalt pay thy vows; If thou purpose a thing, it shall prosper unto thee, And a light shall shine upon thy ways.

CCXIV

JOB:

Oh, I know it already: I myself am to blame for my misery,[238] And his hand is heavy upon me by reason of my groaning! Oh that I knew where I might find him, That I might come even unto his seat!

CCXV

I would plead my cause before him, And fill my mouth with arguments; I would fain know the words which he could answer me, And learn what he would say unto me.

CCXVI

Will he plead against me with his almighty power? If not, then not even he would prevail against me. For a righteous one would dispute with him; So should I be delivered for ever from my judge.

CCXVII

Behold I go forward, but he is not there, And backward, but I cannot perceive him. For he knoweth the way that I have chosen: If he would try me, I should come forth as gold.

CCXVIII

My foot has held his steps, His way have I kept and swerved not; I have not gone back from the precept of his lips, I have hid the words of his mouth in my bosom.

CCXIX

But he is bent upon one thing and who can turn him away? And what his soul desireth even that he doeth. Therefore am I troubled before his face; When I consider, I am afraid of him.

CCXX

God hath crushed my heart, And the Almighty hath terrified me. For I am annihilated because of the darkness, And gloom enwrappeth my face.

CCXXI

Why do the times of judgment depend upon the Almighty, And yet they who know him do not see his days?[239] The wicked remove the landmarks; They rob flocks and lead them to pasture.

CCXXII

They drive away the ass of the fatherless, The widow's ox they seize for a pledge; They turn the needy out of the way, All the poor of the earth have to hide themselves.[240]

CCXXIII

Lo, these things mine ear hath heard, Mine eye hath seen them, and so it is.[241] And if it be not so now, who will make me a liar, And render my speech meaningless?

CCXXIV

BILDAD:

Dominion and fear are with him, Who maketh peace in his high places. Is there any number to his armies? And upon whom doth his light not arise?

CCXXV

By his power the sea groweth calm, And by his understanding he smiteth the sea-dragon. By his breath the heavens become splendour; His hand hath pierced the bolt-serpent.

CCXXVI

But the thunder of his power, Who understands its working? And how can man be deemed just before God, And how can he be clean who is born of a woman?

CCXXVII

Behold, even the moon shineth not, Yea, the stars are not pure in his sight; How much less man, the worm; And the son of man, the maggot!

CCXXVIII

JOB:

How hast thou helped him that is without power? How upholdest thou the arm that hath no strength? To whom hast thou uttered words? And whose spirit went out from thee?

CCXXIX

As God liveth who hath taken away my right, And the Almighty who hath made my soul bitter, Never shall my lips confess untruth, Nor my tongue give utterance to falsehood!

CCXXX

Far be it from me to agree with you! Till I die I will not yield up my integrity! My righteousness I hold fast and will not let it go, My heart doth not censure any one of my days.

CCXXXI

I will teach you about the hand of God, The counsel of the Almighty will I not conceal. Behold, all ye yourselves have seen it.[242] Why then do ye utter such empty things?

CCXXXII

For there is a mine for silver, And a place for gold where they fine it; Iron is taken out of the dust, And copper is smolten out of the stone.

CCXXXIII

He that hovers far from man hath made an end to gloom,[243] He turneth the mountains upside down. He cutteth out stulms among the rocks, And the thing that is hid he bringeth forth to light.

CCXXXIV

But wisdom—whence shall it come? And where is the place of understanding? It is hid from the eyes of all living, Our ears alone have heard thereof.[244]

CCXXXV

God understandeth its way, And he knoweth its dwelling-place; For he looketh to the ends of the earth, And seeth under the entire heaven.

CCXXXVI

When he made the weight for the winds, And weighed the waters by measure, Then did he see and declare it, He prepared it, yea, and searched it out.

CCXXXVII

Then he said unto man, "Desist! Worry not about things too high for thee. Behold, fear of me, that is wisdom, And to depart from evil, that is understanding."

CCXXXVIII

ZOPHAR:

May the lot of the wicked befall mine enemy, And that of the ungodly him who riseth up against me! For what can be the hope of the iniquitous, When God cutteth his soul away?

CCXXXIX

Will God hear his cry, When trouble overtaketh him? Will he delight himself in the Almighty? Will he always call upon God?

CCXL

If his children be multiplied, it is for the sword, And his offspring shall not be sated with bread; They that survive him shall be buried in death, And their widows shall not weep.

CCXLI

Though he heap up silver as the dust And store up raiment as the clay, He may indeed prepare it, but the just shall put it on, And the guiltless shall divide the silver.

CCXLII

He buildeth his house as a spider; Rich shall he lie down, but rich he shall not remain. Terrors take hold on him like waters; A tempest sweepeth him away in the night.

CCXLIII

JOB:

Oh that I were as in months gone by, As in the days when God preserved me; When his lamp shined upon my head, And when I walked by his light through darkness!

CCXLIV

For then I moved in sunshine, While God was familiar with my tent; While I washed my steps in cream, And the rock poured me out rivers of oil.

CCXLV

When I went to the gate at the city,[245] When I prepared my seat on the public place, Then the young men, seeing me, hid themselves, And the aged arose and remained standing.

CCXLVI

Princes desisted from talking, And laid their hands upon their mouths; For the ear heard me and blessed, The eye saw me and bore me witness.

CCXLVII

For I delivered the poor that cried aloud, And the orphan and him that had none to help him; The blessing of him that was perishing came upon me, And I gladdened the heart of the widow.

CCXLVIII

I put on righteousness and it clothed me; My judgment was as a robe and a diadem. I became eyes to the blind, And I was feet unto the lame.

CCXLIX

I was a father to the poor, And the cause which I knew not I searched out; And I brake the grinders of the wicked. And plucked the spoil out of his teeth.

CCL

Unto me men gave ear and waited, And kept silence at my counsel. After my words they spake not again, And my speech fell upon them as a shower.

CCLI

But now they laugh me to scorn, Shepherd boys approach me with insolence, Whose fathers I would not have deigned To set with the dogs of my flock.

CCLII

Yea, what booted me the strength of their hands? Pity upon them was thrown away. They were children of fools, yea, men of no name, They were driven forth from the land.

CCLIII

And now I am become the song of these! Yea, I am become their byword! They loathe me, they flee far from me, And withhold not spittle from my face.

CCLIV

For he hath dissolved my dignity and humbled me, And he hath taken away my renown. He hath opened a way to my miseries; They enter and no one helpeth me.

CCLV

With rumbling and booming they bounded along; Terrors are turned upon me; Thou scatterest my dignity, as with a wind, And my welfare passeth as a cloud.

CCLVI

The night gnaws away my bones, And my devourers need no repose; By swellings is my garment misshapen, And I am grown like unto dust and ashes.

CCLVII

I cry and thou hearest me not, Thou art become ruthless towards me; With the strength of thy hand thou assailest me, And thou meltest my salvation away.

CCLVIII

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. But shall not a drowning man stretch out his hand? Shall he not cry out in his destruction?

CCLIX

Did I not weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? I looked for good and waited for light; Behold days of sorrowing are come upon me.

CCLX

I go mourning without sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry aloud; I am become a brother unto jackals, And a comrade unto ostriches.

CCLXI

My skin hath grown black upon me And my bones are scorched with heat; My harp is turned to mourning, And my bagpipe into the wail of the weeping.[246]

CCLXII

If I have walked with men of wickedness, Or if my feet have hastened to deceit, Let him weigh me in balances of justice, That God may know mine integrity!

CCLXIII

If my steps have swerved from the way, And mine heart followed in the wake of mine eyes, Let me now sow and another eat, Yea, let my garden be rooted out!

CCLXIV

If mine heart have been deceived by a woman, Or if I have lain in wait at my neighbour's door, Then let my wife turn the mill unto another And let others bow down upon her!

CCLXV

For adultery is a grievous crime, Yea, a crime to be punished by the judges: It is a fire that consumeth to utter destruction, And would root out all mine increase.

CCLXVI

Had I despised the right of my man-servant Or of my maidservant, when they contended with me, What could I do, when God rose up? And when he visiteth, what could I answer him?

CCLXVII

For perdition from God was a terror to me, And for his highness' sake I could not do such things. Did not he that made me in the womb, make him?[247] And did he not fashion us in one belly?

CCLXVIII

Never have I withheld the poor from their desire, Nor caused the widow's eyes to fail; Nor have I eaten my morsel alone, Unless the fatherless had partaken thereof.

CCLXIX

If I saw one perish for lack of clothing, Or any of the poor devoid of covering; Then surely did his loins bless me, And he was warmed with the fleece of my sheep.

CCLXX

If I lifted up my hand against the fatherless, When I saw my backers in the gate,[248] Then let my shoulder fall from its setting, And mine arm from its channel bone!

CCLXXI

I have never made gold my hope, Nor said to the fine gold: "Thou art my trust;" Never did I rejoice that my wealth was great, And because mine hand had found much.

CCLXXII

Never did I gaze upon the sun, because it shone brightly, Nor upon the moon floating in glory, So that my heart was secretly enticed, And I wafted kisses to them, putting my hand to my mouth.[249]

CCLXXIII

Never did I rejoice at the ruin of my hater, Nor exult when misery found him out; Neither have I suffered my throat to sin, By wreaking a curse upon his soul.

CCLXXIV

Never had the guests of my tent to say: "Oh, that we had our fill of his meat!" I suffered not the stranger to lodge out of doors, But I opened my gates to the traveller.

CCLXXV

I covered not my failings after the manner of men, By locking mine iniquity in my bosom, As if I feared the vast multitude, Or because the scorn of families[250] appalled me.

CCLXXVI

And I, forsooth, should keep silence, should not come forward! Oh, that one would hear me! Here is my signature; let the Almighty answer me, And hear the indictment which my adversary hath written![251]

CCLXXVII

Surely I would hoist it upon my shoulder, And weave it as a crown unto myself; I would account to him for the number of my steps; As a prince would I draw near unto him.

CCLXXVIII

JAHVEH:

Who is this that darkeneth my counsel, With words devoid of knowledge? Now gird up thy loins like a man, For I shall ask of thee, and do thou teach me!

CCLXXIX

When I laid the earth's foundation where wast thou? Declare, if thou hast understanding! Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest, Or who hath stretched the line upon it?

CCLXXX

Where are its sockets sunk down, Or who laid the corner-stone thereof? When the morning stars exulted together, And all the sons of God shouted for joy.

CCLXXXI

Who shut in the sea with doors, When it brake forth as issuing from the womb? When I made the clouds its garment, And thick darkness for its swaddling-band.

CCLXXXII

Then I brake up for it its appointed place, And set it bars and portals, And said: "Hitherto shalt thou come, And here shall thy haughty waves be stayed!"

CCLXXXIII

Was it at thy prompting that I commanded the morning, And caused the dawn to know its place? That it might seize hold of the ends of the earth, That the wicked might be shaken out?[252]

CCLXXXIV

Then the earth changes as clay under the seal, And all things appear therein as an embroidery;[253] But from the wicked is withholden their hiding-place, And the raised arm shall be shattered.

CCLXXXV

Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? Or hast thou walked in search of the abysses? Have the gates of death been opened unto thee, Or hast thou seen the doors of darkness?

CCLXXXVI

Hast thou surveyed the breadth of the earth? Declare, if thou knowest, its measure! Thou must needs know it, for then wast thou already born, And great is the number of thy days!

CCLXXXVII

Which way leadeth to the dwelling of light? And of darkness, where is the abode? That thou shouldst take it to its bounds, And that thou shouldst know the paths to its house?

CCLXXXVIII

Hast thou entered into the granaries of the snow, Or hast thou seen the arsenals of the hail, Which I have laid up for the time of trouble, Against the day of battle and of war?