Eliphaz the Temanite asks permission to speak, though he says it will be hard to hold back. He reminds Job that he has instructed many, steadied those who stumbled and strengthened weak knees. Now that trouble touches him, he is dismayed. Should not his fear of God be his confidence and his integrity his hope?
Then he lays out his thesis: who that was innocent has ever perished? Where were the upright ever cut off? Eliphaz has seen that those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same. At the breath of God they perish. He compares the wicked to fierce lions whose teeth are broken and whose cubs are scattered.
The rest of the chapter tells a vision. In the silence of the night, when deep sleep falls on people, a spirit glides past Eliphaz and his hair stands on end. A form he cannot make out stands still, and a voice whispers: can a mortal be more righteous than God? Can a man be purer than his Maker? If God does not trust even his servants or his angels, says the voice, how much less those who live in houses of clay and are crushed like a moth. They die without wisdom, between morning and evening.