The Holy Bible – Knox Translation
The Book of Job
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Chapter 38
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Then, from the midst of a whirlwind, the Lord gave Job his answer:
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Here is one that must ever be clouding the truth of things with words ill considered!
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Strip, then, and enter the lists; it is my turn to ask questions now, thine to answer them.
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From what vantage-point wast thou watching, when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, whence comes this sure knowledge of thine?
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Tell me, since thou art so wise, was it thou or I designed earth’s plan, measuring it out with the line?
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How came its base to stand so firm; who laid its corner-stone?
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To me, that day, all the morning stars sang together, all the powers of heaven uttered their joyful praise.
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Was it thou or I shut in the sea behind bars? No sooner had it broken forth from the womb
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than I dressed it in swaddling-clothes of dark mist,
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set it within bounds of my own choosing, made fast with bolt and bar;
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Thus far thou shalt come, said I, and no further; here let thy swelling waves spend their force.

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Dost thou, a mortal, take command of the day’s breaking, and shew the dawn its appointed post,
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twitching away earth’s coverlet, scaring away the ill-doers?
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The dawn, that stamps its image on the clay of earth; stands there, flung over it like a garment,
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taking away from the ill-doers the darkness that is their light, so that all their power goes for nothing.
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Didst thou ever make thy way into the sea’s depths, walk at thy ease through its hidden caverns?
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When did the gates of death open to thee, and give thee sight of its gloomy threshold?
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Nay, hast thou viewed the whole surface of earth itself? Tell me, if such knowledge is thine, all its secrets;
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where the light dwells, where darkness finds its home;
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hast thou followed either of these to the end of its journey, tracked it to its lair?
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Didst thou foresee the time of thy own birth, couldst thou foretell the years of life that lay before thee?

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Hast thou found thy way in to see the chambers where snow and hail lie stored,
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my armoury against the times of stress, when there are wars to be fought, battles to be won?
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Tell me by what means the light is scattered over earth, the heat diffused;
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tell me what power carved out a channel for the tempestuous rain, a vent for the echoing thunderstorm,
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that they should fall on some lonely desert where foot of man never trod,
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water those trackless wastes, and make the green grass spring?
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What sire gendered the rain, or the drops of dew;
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what mother’s womb bore the ice, the frost that comes from heaven
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to make water hard as stone, imprison the depths beneath its surface?

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Is it at thy command the glittering bright Pleiads cluster so close, and Orion’s circlet spreads so wide?
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Dost thou tell the day star when to shine out, the evening star when to rise over the sons of earth?
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Is it thine to understand the motions of the heavens, and rule earth by their influence?
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Can thy voice reach the clouds, and bid their showers fall on thee;
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canst thou send out lightnings that will do thy errand, and come back to await thy pleasure?
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What power gives either man’s heart its prescience, or the cock its sure instinct,
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knows all the motions of heaven, and lulls the music of the spheres?
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When was it that earth’s dust was piled, and the solid ground was built up?

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Is it thou or I that finds the lioness her prey, to satisfy those hungry whelps of hers,
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where they lie in rocky caves, their lurking-places? Which of us feeds the ravens?
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Is it not to God their nestlings cry so shrilly, homeless for want of food?