Job.
Chapter 24.
Howe should not the times be hid from the Almightie, seeing that they which knowe him, see not his dayes? 
Some remoue the land marks, that rob the flockes and feede thereof. 
They leade away the asse of the fatherles: and take the widowes oxe to pledge. 
They make the poore to turne out of the way, so that the poore of the earth hide themselues together. 
Behold, others as wilde asses in the wildernesse, goe forth to their businesse, and rise early for a praye: the wildernesse giueth him and his children foode. 
They reape his prouision in the fielde, but they gather the late vintage of the wicked. 
They cause the naked to lodge without garment, and without couering in the colde. 
They are wet with the showres of the moutaines, and they imbrace the rocke for want of a couering. 
They plucke the fatherles from the breast, and take the pledge of the poore. 
They cause him to go naked without clothing, and take the glening from the hungrie. 
They that make oyle betweene their walles, and treade their wine presses, suffer thirst. 
Men cry out of the citie, and the soules of the slayne cry out: yet God doth not charge them with follie. 
These are they, that abhorre the light: they know not the wayes thereof, nor continue in the paths thereof. 
The murtherer riseth earely and killeth the poore and the needie: and in the night he is as a theefe. 
The eye also of the adulterer waiteth for the twilight, and sayth, None eye shall see me, and disguiseth his face. 
They digge through houses in the darke, which they marked for themselues in the daye: they knowe not the light. 
But the morning is euen to them as the shadow of death: if one knowe them, they are in the terrours of the shadowe of death. 
He is swift vpon the waters: their portion shalbe cursed in the earth: he will not behold the way of the vineyardes. 
As the dry ground and heate consume the snowe waters, so shall the graue the sinners. 
The pitifull man shall forget him: the worme shall feele his sweetenes: he shalbe no more remembered, and the wicked shalbe broke like a tree. 
He doth euil intreat ye barren, that doeth not beare, neither doeth he good to the widowe. 
He draweth also the mighty by his power, and when he riseth vp, none is sure of life. 
Though men giue him assurance to be in safetie, yet his eyes are vpon their wayes. 
They are exalted for a litle, but they are gone, and are brought lowe as all others: they are destroyed, and cut off as the toppe of an eare of corne. 
But if it be not so, where is he? or who wil proue me a lyer, and make my words of no value? 
