52 Week Bible Reading Plan
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I Samuel 21-25
Thursday, March 15, 2018
The Books of Poetry
I Corinthians 13-14
And Job addeth to lift up his simile, and saith: --
Who doth make me as [in] months past, As [in] the days of God's preserving me?
In His causing His lamp to shine on my head, By His light I walk [through] darkness.
As I have been in days of my maturity, And the counsel of God upon my tent.
When yet the Mighty One [is] with me. Round about me -- my young ones,
When washing my goings with butter, And the firm rock [is] with me rivulets of oil.
When I go out to the gate by the city, In a broad place I prepare my seat.
Seen me have youths, and they, been hidden, And the aged have risen -- they stood up.
Princes have kept in words, And a hand they place on their mouth.
The voice of leaders hath been hidden, And their tongue to the palate hath cleaved.
For the ear heard, and declareth me happy, And the eye hath seen, and testifieth [to] me.
For I deliver the afflicted who is crying, And the fatherless who hath no helper.
The blessing of the perishing cometh on me, And the heart of the widow I cause to sing.
Righteousness I have put on, and it clotheth me, As a robe and a diadem my justice.
Eyes I have been to the blind, And feet to the lame [am] I.
A father I [am] to the needy, And the cause I have not known I search out.
And I break the jaw-teeth of the perverse, And from his teeth I cast away prey.
And I say, `With my nest I expire, And as the sand I multiply days.'
My root is open unto the waters, And dew doth lodge on my branch.
My honour [is] fresh with me, And my bow in my hand is renewed.
To me they have hearkened, Yea, they wait, and are silent for my counsel.
After my word they change not, And on them doth my speech drop,
And they wait as [for] rain for me, And their mouth they have opened wide [As] for the latter rain.
I laugh unto them -- they give no credence, And the light of my face cause not to fall.
I choose their way, and sit head, And I dwell as a king in a troop, When mourners he doth comfort.
And now, laughed at me, Have the younger in days than I, Whose fathers I have loathed to set With the dogs of my flock.
Also -- the power of their hands, why [is it] to me? On them hath old age perished.
With want and with famine gloomy, Those fleeing to a dry place, Formerly a desolation and waste,
Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots [is] their food.
From the midst they are cast out, (They shout against them as a thief),
In a frightful place of valleys to dwell, Holes of earth and clefts.
Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.
Sons of folly -- even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.
And now, their song I have been, And I am to them for a byword.
They have abominated me, They have kept far from me, And from before me have not spared to spit.
Because His cord He loosed and afflicteth me, And the bridle from before me, They have cast away.
On the right hand doth a brood arise, My feet they have cast away, And they raise up against me, Their paths of calamity.
They have broken down my path, By my calamity they profit, `He hath no helper.'
As a wide breach they come, Under the desolation have rolled themselves.
He hath turned against me terrors, It pursueth as the wind mine abundance, And as a thick cloud, Hath my safety passed away.
And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
At night my bone hath been pierced in me, And mine eyelids do not lie down.
By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.
Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
I cry unto Thee, And Thou dost not answer me, I have stood, and Thou dost consider me.
Thou art turned to be fierce to me, With the strength of Thy hand, Thou oppresest me.
Thou dost lift me up, On the wind Thou dost cause me to ride, And Thou meltest -- Thou levellest me.
For I have known To death Thou dost bring me back, And [to] the house appointed for all living.
Surely not against the heap Doth He send forth the hand, Though in its ruin they have safety.
Did not I weep for him whose day is hard? Grieved hath my soul for the needy.
When good I expected, then cometh evil, And I wait for light, and darkness cometh.
My bowels have boiled, and have not ceased, Gone before me have days of affliction.
Mourning I have gone without the sun, I have risen, in an assembly I cry.
A brother I have been to dragons, And a companion to daughters of the ostrich.
My skin hath been black upon me, And my bone hath burned from heat,
And my harp doth become mourning, And my organ the sound of weeping.
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