Job.
Chapter 17.
My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are mine. 
Are there not mockers around me? and doth not mine eye abide in their provocation? 
Lay down now a pledge, be thou surety for me with thyself: who is he that striketh hands with me? 
For thou hast hidden their heart from understanding; therefore thou wilt not exalt them. 
He that betrayeth friends for a prey — even the eyes of his children shall fail. 
And he hath made me a proverb of the peoples; and I am become one to be spit on in the face. 
And mine eye is dim by reason of grief, and all my members are as a shadow. 
Upright men shall be astonished at this, and the innocent shall be stirred up against the ungodly; 
But the righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall increase in strength. 
But as for you all, pray come on again; and I shall not find one wise man among you. 
My days are past, my purposes are broken off, the cherished thoughts of my heart. 
They change the night into day; the light they imagine near in presence of the darkness. 
If I wait, Sheol is my house; I spread my bed in the darkness: 
I cry to the grave, Thou art my father! to the worm, My mother, and my sister! 
And where is then my hope? yea, my hope, who shall see it? 
It shall go down to the bars of Sheol, when our rest shall be together in the dust. 
