Job begins by saying that his spirit is broken, his days are extinct and the graveyard is ready for him. Mockers are with him, and his eye dwells on their provocation. Then he turns to God with a bold request: lay down a pledge for me with yourself; who else will put up security for me? His friends' hearts are closed to understanding, so God will not exalt them. The one who denounces his friends for a reward will see the eyes of his children fail.
Job has become a byword among the peoples and one in whose face they spit. His eye has grown dim from grief, and all his members are like a shadow. The upright are appalled at this, and the innocent stir themselves up against the godless. Yet the righteous will hold to his way, and he who has clean hands will grow stronger and stronger.
But then Job turns to his friends in discouragement: come on again, all of you, for I shall not find a wise man among you. My days are past, my plans are broken off, the desires of my heart. They make night into day, and say that light is near to darkness. If I hope, the grave is my house; I make my bed in darkness. I call to the pit, you are my father, and to the worm, my mother and my sister. Where then is my hope? Who will see my hope? Will it go down with me to the bars of Sheol, when we descend together into the dust?