Eliphaz the Temanite said, “Will it grieve you to talk with us? I feel moved to speak. Look, you have been a leader. You have strengthened the weak. Now trouble has come to you. Yet, think: Who ever died for being innocent? Whenever is the righteous left out in the cold? Those who plow iniquity—and those who sow wickedness—reap the same. God blasts them. The roaring of the lion and the teeth of the young lions are broken. The old lion dies for lack of prey, and the stout lion's whelps are scattered.
“I know this little secret;
It came to me as a vision in the night
And fear and trembling shook my bones.
“A sprit passed and my hair stood on end.
It stopped but had no shape.
Yet it was an image in the silence and it asked me,
‘Will mortals be more just than God?
Will mortals be more pure than their maker?
God cannot trust his servants
Even his angels are fools.’
“So, as for we who dwell in houses of clay,
For us whose foundation is in the dust,
We die like moths.
We are destroyed from morning to evening
We perish continuously, no one ever noticing.
“And as for the good in us—
Where does that go?
“We die without wisdom. . .
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