Job 27:13-23 - Compare All Versions

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“Here is the fate God allots to the wicked, the heritage a ruthless man receives from the Almighty: However many his children, their fate is the sword; his offspring will never have enough to eat. The plague will bury those who survive him, and their widows will not weep for them. Though he heaps up silver like dust and clothes like piles of clay, what he lays up the righteous will wear, and the innocent will divide his silver. The house he builds is like a moth’s cocoon, like a hut made by a watchman. He lies down wealthy, but will do so no more; when he opens his eyes, all is gone. Terrors overtake him like a flood; a tempest snatches him away in the night. The east wind carries him off, and he is gone; it sweeps him out of his place. It hurls itself against him without mercy as he flees headlong from its power. It claps its hands in derision and hisses him out of his place.”

“This is the portion of a wicked man with God, and the heritage that oppressors receive from the Almighty: If his children are multiplied, it is for the sword, and his descendants have not enough bread. Those who survive him the pestilence buries, and his widows do not weep. Though he heap up silver like dust, and pile up clothing like clay, he may pile it up, but the righteous will wear it, and the innocent will divide the silver. He builds his house like a moth’s, like a booth that a watchman makes. He goes to bed rich, but will do so no more; he opens his eyes, and his wealth is gone. Terrors overtake him like a flood; in the night a whirlwind carries him off. The east wind lifts him up and he is gone; it sweeps him out of his place. It hurls at him without pity; he flees from its power in headlong flight. It claps its hands at him and hisses at him from its place.

“This is what the wicked will receive from God; this is their inheritance from the Almighty. They may have many children, but the children will die in war or starve to death. Those who survive will die of a plague, and not even their widows will mourn them. “Evil people may have piles of money and may store away mounds of clothing. But the righteous will wear that clothing, and the innocent will divide that money. The wicked build houses as fragile as a spider’s web, as flimsy as a shelter made of branches. The wicked go to bed rich but wake to find that all their wealth is gone. Terror overwhelms them like a flood, and they are blown away in the storms of the night. The east wind carries them away, and they are gone. It sweeps them away. It whirls down on them without mercy. They struggle to flee from its power. But everyone jeers at them and mocks them.

This is a wicked man’s lot  from God, the inheritance the ruthless receive from the Almighty. Even if his children increase, they are destined for the sword; his descendants will never have enough food. Those who survive him will be buried by the plague, yet their widows will not weep for them.  Though he piles up silver like dust and heaps up fine clothing like clay — he may heap it up, but the righteous will wear it, and the innocent will divide up his silver.  The house he built is like a moth’s cocoon or a shelter set up by a watchman.  He lies down wealthy, but will do so no more; when he opens his eyes, it is gone. Terrors overtake him like a flood;  a storm  wind sweeps him away at night. An east wind picks him up, and he is gone; it carries him away from his place. It blasts at him without mercy, while he flees desperately from its force. It claps  its hands at him and scoffs at him from its place.

This is the portion of a wicked man with God, And the heritage of oppressors, which they shall receive of the Almighty. If his children be multiplied, it is for the sword: And his offspring shall not be satisfied with bread. Those that remain of him shall be buried in death: And his widows shall not weep. Though he heap up silver as the dust, And prepare raiment as the clay; He may prepare it, but the just shall put it on, And the innocent shall divide the silver. He buildeth his house as a moth, And as a booth that the keeper maketh. The rich man shall lie down, but he shall not be gathered: He openeth his eyes, and he is not. Terrors take hold on him as waters, A tempest stealeth him away in the night. The east wind carrieth him away, and he departeth: And as a storm hurleth him out of his place. For God shall cast upon him, and not spare: He would fain flee out of his hand. Men shall clap their hands at him, And shall hiss him out of his place.

“This is the portion of a wicked man with God, And the heritage of oppressors, received from the Almighty: If his children are multiplied, it is for the sword; And his offspring shall not be satisfied with bread. Those who survive him shall be buried in death, And their widows shall not weep, Though he heaps up silver like dust, And piles up clothing like clay— He may pile it up, but the just will wear it, And the innocent will divide the silver. He builds his house like a moth, Like a booth which a watchman makes. The rich man will lie down, But not be gathered up; He opens his eyes, And he is no more. Terrors overtake him like a flood; A tempest steals him away in the night. The east wind carries him away, and he is gone; It sweeps him out of his place. It hurls against him and does not spare; He flees desperately from its power. Men shall clap their hands at him, And shall hiss him out of his place.

“I’ll quote your own words back to you: “‘This is how God treats the wicked, this is what evil people can expect from God Almighty: Their children—all of them—will die violent deaths; they’ll never have enough bread to put on the table. They’ll be wiped out by the plague, and none of the widows will shed a tear when they’re gone. Even if they make a lot of money and are resplendent in the latest fashions, It’s the good who will end up wearing the clothes and the decent who will divide up the money. They build elaborate houses that won’t survive a single winter. They go to bed wealthy and wake up poor. Terrors pour in on them like flash floods— a tornado snatches them away in the middle of the night, A cyclone sweeps them up—gone! Not a trace of them left, not even a footprint. Catastrophes relentlessly pursue them; they run this way and that, but there’s no place to hide— Pummeled by the weather, blown to smithereens by the storm.’”

¶“This is the portion of a wicked person from God, And the inheritance which tyrants receive from the Almighty: Though his sons are many, they are destined for the sword; And his descendants will not be satisfied with bread. “His survivors will be buried because of the plague, And their widows will not be able to weep. “Though he piles up silver like dust, And prepares garments as plentiful as the clay, He may prepare it, but the righteous will wear it And the innocent will divide the silver. “He has built his house like the spider’s web, Or a hut which the watchman has made. “He lies down rich, but never again; He opens his eyes, and it no longer exists. “Terrors overtake him like a flood; A storm steals him away in the night. “The east wind carries him away, and he is gone; For it sweeps him away from his place. “For it will hurl at him without mercy; He will certainly try to flee from its power. “People will clap their hands at him, And will whistle at him from their places.

¶“This [which I am about to explain] is the portion of a wicked man from God, And the inheritance which tyrants and oppressors receive from the Almighty: Though his children are many, they are destined for the sword; And his descendants will not have sufficient bread. “Those who survive him will be buried because of the plague, And [their] widows will not be able to weep. “Though he heaps up silver like dust And piles up clothing like clay, He may prepare it, but the just will wear it And the innocent will divide the silver. “He builds his house like a spider’s web, Like a (temporary) hut which a watchman makes. “He lies down rich, but never will again; He opens his eyes, and it is gone. “Terrors overtake him like a [suddenly rising] flood; A windstorm steals him away in the night. “The east wind lifts him up, and he is gone; It sweeps him out of his place. “For it will hurl [thunderbolts of God’s wrath] at him unsparingly and without compassion; He flees in haste from its power. “People will clap their hands at him [to mock and ridicule him] And hiss him out of his place.

This is the portion of the wicked man allotted by God, the inheritance that evildoers receive from the Almighty. If his children increase – it is for the sword! His offspring never have enough to eat. Those who survive him are buried by the plague, and their widows do not mourn for them. If he piles up silver like dust and stores up clothing like mounds of clay, what he stores up a righteous man will wear, and an innocent man will inherit his silver. The house he builds is as fragile as a moth’s cocoon, like a hut that a watchman has made. He goes to bed wealthy, but will do so no more. When he opens his eyes, it is all gone. Terrors overwhelm him like a flood; at night a whirlwind carries him off. The east wind carries him away, and he is gone; it sweeps him out of his place. It hurls itself against him without pity as he flees headlong from its power. It claps its hands at him in derision and hisses him away from his place.