Then Bildad the Shuhite answered:
"How long will you hunt for words? Consider, and then we will speak.
Why are we counted as cattle? Why are we stupid in your sight?
You who tear yourself in your anger, shall the earth be forsaken for you, or the rock be removed out of its place?
"Yea, the light of the wicked is put out, and the flame of his fire does not shine.
The light is dark in his tent, and his lamp above him is put out.
His strong steps are shortened and his own schemes throw him down.
For he is cast into a net by his own feet, and he walks on a pitfall.
A trap seizes him by the heel, a snare lays hold of him.
A rope is hid for him in the ground, a trap for him in the path.
Terrors frighten him on every side, and chase him at his heels.
His strength is hunger-bitten, and calamity is ready for his stumbling.
By disease his skin is consumed, the first-born of death consumes his limbs.
He is torn from the tent in which he trusted, and is brought to the king of terrors.
In his tent dwells that which is none of his; brimstone is scattered upon his habitation.
His roots dry up beneath, and his branches wither above.
His memory perishes from the earth, and he has no name in the street.
He is thrust from light into darkness, and driven out of the world.
He has no offspring or descendant among his people, and no survivor where he used to live.
They of the west are appalled at his day, and horror seizes them of the east.
Surely such are the dwellings of the ungodly, such is the place of him who knows not God."