Then Bildad the Shuhite replied:
“How long before you stop talking? Speak sense if you want us to answer!
Do you think we are mere animals? Do you think we are stupid?
You may tear out your hair in anger, but will that destroy the earth? Will it make the rocks tremble?
“Surely the light of the wicked will be snuffed out. The sparks of their fire will not glow.
The light in their tent will grow dark. The lamp hanging above them will be quenched.
The confident stride of the wicked will be shortened. Their own schemes will be their downfall.
The wicked walk into a net. They fall into a pit.
A trap grabs them by the heel. A snare holds them tight.
A noose lies hidden on the ground. A rope is stretched across their path.
“Terrors surround the wicked and trouble them at every step.
Hunger depletes their strength, and calamity waits for them to stumble.
Disease eats their skin; death devours their limbs.
They are torn from the security of their homes and are brought down to the king of terrors.
The homes of the wicked will burn down; burning sulfur rains on their houses.
Their roots will dry up, and their branches will wither.
All memory of their existence will fade from the earth; no one will remember their names.
They will be thrust from light into darkness, driven from the world.
They will have neither children nor grandchildren, nor any survivor in the place where they lived.
People in the west are appalled at their fate; people in the east are horrified.
They will say, ‘This was the home of a wicked person, the place of one who rejected God.’”