Job 4

Here's wiki common:

                              For the above see Job 1:18-20.

Kathleen Raine, in her Golgonooza (p.127) said about this Plate:
"things have gone from bad to worse; the black winged figure of Satan scatters 
fire and destruction as the house collapses about Job's sons and daughters."

But it means more than the literal meaning: sons and daughters are often 
mentioned in Blake's poetry. In Plate 11 of Jerusalem (Erdman 154):
"And the Sons and Daughters of Los came forth in perfection lovely!"
out of the furnaces like the travail Job suffered in the loss (and recovery) of
his children.

But this was the material recovery; the spiritual recovery was to come later, as 
illustrated in one of the last plates (of Job and also of Jerusalem)
Jerusalem and Job both tell the same story: of living by the law, total loss and through
God's grace being reborn into the Eternal realm.  This post is of course the graphic 
description of the 'total loss' , referred to in Blake's poetry as Ulro.

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Milton 19 (Erdman 113) recites the struggle that Milton had with the demon, 
his adversary (two common terms for Satan):

"The Man and Demon strove many periods. Rahab beheld
Standing on Carmel; Rahab and Tirzah trembled to behold
The enormous strife. one giving life, the other giving death
To his adversary. and they sent forth all their sons & daughters 
In all their beauty to entice Milton across the river"

Raine identified Job with Albion: "indeed .. the figure of Albion is to a 
great extent derived from the book of Job.."...and of Blake and of you and me.

Plate 19 of Jerusalem gives a vivid description of what happened substantially
in this Job picture:

PLATE 19 (Erdman 163)
His Children exil'd from his breast pass to and fro before him
His birds are silent on his hills, flocks die beneath his
     branches
His tents are fall'n! his trumpets, and the sweet sound of his
     harp
Are silent on his clouded hills, that belch forth storms & fire.
His milk of Cows, & honey of Bees, & fruit of golden harvest,    
Is gather'd in the scorching heat, & in the driving rain:
Where once he sat he weary walks in misery and pain:
His Giant beauty and perfection fallen into dust:
Till from within his witherd breast grown narrow with his woes:
The corn is turn'd to thistles & the apples into poison:         
The birds of song to murderous crows, his joys to bitter groans!
The voices of children in his tents, to cries of helpless infants!