The Book of Job

“My soul has been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.

I say to God, Do not condemn me, || Let me know why You strive [with] me.

Is it good for You that You oppress? That You despise the labor of Your hands, || And shine on the counsel of the wicked?

Do you have eyes of flesh? Do You see as man sees?

[Are] Your days as the days of man? Your years as the days of a man?

That You inquire for my iniquity, || And seek for my sin?

For You know that I am not wicked, || And there is no deliverer from Your hand.

Your hands have taken pains about me, || And they make me together all around, || And You swallow me up!

Please remember || That You have made me as clay, || And You bring me back to dust.

Do You not pour me out as milk? And curdle me as cheese?

Skin and flesh You put on me, || And fence me with bones and sinews.

Life and kindness You have done with me. And Your inspection has preserved my spirit.

And these You have laid up in Your heart, I have known that this [is] with You.

If I sinned, then You have observed me, || And do not acquit me from my iniquity,

If I have done wickedly—woe to me, || And righteously—I do not lift up my head, || Full of shame—then see my affliction,

And it rises—as a lion You hunt me. And You turn back—You show Yourself wonderful in me.

You renew Your witnesses against me, and multiply Your anger with me, || Changes and warfare [are] with me.

And why from the womb || Have You brought me forth? I expire, and the eye does not see me.

I am as [if] I had not been, || I am brought from the belly to the grave,

Are my days not few? Cease then, and put from me, || And I brighten up a little,

Before I go, and do not return, || To a land of darkness and death-shade,

A land of obscurity as thick darkness, || Death-shade—and no order, || And the shining [is] as thick darkness.”

“My soul is weary of my life. I will give free course to my complaint. I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.

I will tell God, ‘Do not condemn me. Show me why you contend with me.

Is it good to you that you should oppress, that you should despise the work of your hands, and smile on the counsel of the wicked?

Do you have eyes of flesh? Or do you see as man sees?

Are your days as the days of mortals, or your years as man’s years,

that you inquire after my iniquity, and search after my sin?

Although you know that I am not wicked, there is no one who can deliver out of your hand.

“‘Your hands have framed me and fashioned me altogether, yet you destroy me.

Remember, I beg you, that you have fashioned me as clay. Will you bring me into dust again?

Haven’t you poured me out like milk, and curdled me like cheese?

You have clothed me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews.

You have granted me life and loving kindness. Your visitation has preserved my spirit.

Yet you hid these things in your heart. I know that this is with you:

if I sin, then you mark me. You will not acquit me from my iniquity.

If I am wicked, woe to me. If I am righteous, I still will not lift up my head, being filled with disgrace, and conscious of my affliction.

If my head is held high, you hunt me like a lion. Again you show yourself powerful to me.

You renew your witnesses against me, and increase your indignation on me. Changes and warfare are with me.

“‘Why, then, have you brought me out of the womb? I wish I had given up the spirit, and no eye had seen me.

I should have been as though I had not been. I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.

Aren’t my days few? Stop! Leave me alone, that I may find a little comfort,

before I go where I will not return from, to the land of darkness and of the shadow of death;

the land dark as midnight, of the shadow of death, without any order, where the light is as midnight.’”