Job 16

Coverdale(i) 1 Iob answered, and sayde: 2 I haue oft tymes herde soch thinges. Miserable geuers of comforte are ye, all the sorte of you. 3 Shall not thy vayne wordes come yet to an ende? Or, hast thou yet eny more to saye? 4 I coude speake, as ye do also. But wolde God, that youre soule were in my soules steade: then shulde I heape vp wordes agaynst you, and shake my heade at you. 5 I shulde comforte you with my mouth, and release youre payne with ye talkinge of my lyppes. 6 But what shall I do? For all my wordes, my sorow wil not ceasse: and though I holde my toge, yet wil it not departe fro me. 7 And now that I am full of payne, and all that I haue destroied 8 (wherof my wryncles beare wytnesse) there stodeth vp a dyssembler to make me answere with lyes to my face. 9 He is angrie at me, he hateth me, and gnassheth vpon me with his teth. Myne enemy skouleth vpon me with his eyes. 10 They haue opened their mouthes wyde vpon me, and smytten me vpon the cheke despitefully, they haue eased the selues thorow myne aduersite. 11 God hath geuen me ouer to the vngodly, and delyuered me in to the hondes of ye wicked. 12 I was somtyme in wealth, but sodenly hath he brought me to naught. He hath taken me by the neck, he hath rente me, and set me, as it were a marck for him to shute at. 13 He hath compased me rounde aboute with his dartes, he hath wounded my loynes, & not spared. My bowels hath he poured vpon the grounde. 14 He hath geue me one wounde vpon another, and is falle vpon me like a giaunte. 15 I haue sowed a sack cloth vpon my skynne, and lye with my strength in the dust. 16 My face is swolle with wepinge, & myne eyes are waxen dymne. 17 Howbeit there is no wickednesse in my hondes, and my prayer is clene. 18 O earth, couer not my bloude, and let my crienge fynde no rowme. 19 For lo, my witnesse is in heauen, and he that knoweth me, is aboue in the heyth. 20 My frendes laugh me to scorne, but myne eye poureth out teares vnto God. 21 Though a body might pleate wt God, as one man doth with another, 22 yet the nombre of my yeares are come, & I must go the waye, from whence I shal not turne agayne.