LXII

But his roots are entangled in a heap of stones, And rocky soil keeps hold upon him; It destroyeth him from his place, Then that denying him saith: "I have not seen thee."

LXIII

Behold, this is the "joy" of his lot, And out of the dust shall others grow.

Lo! G.o.d will not cast out a perfect man, Neither will he take evil-doers by the hand.

LXIV

He will yet fill thy mouth with laughing And thy lips with rejoicing.

They that hate thee shall be clothed with shame, And the tent of the wicked shall disappear.

LXV

JOB:

I know it is so of a truth; For how should man be in the right against G.o.d?

If he long to contend with him, He cannot answer him one of a thousand.

LXVI

Wise is he in heart and mighty in strength: Who could venture against him and remain safe?-- Against him who moveth mountains and knoweth not That he hath overturned them in his anger.

LXVII

He shaketh the earth out of her place, And the inhabitants thereof quake with fear; He commandeth the sun and it riseth not, And he sealeth up the stars.[207]

LXVIII

He alone spreadeth out the heavens, And treadeth upon the heights of the sea; He doth great things past finding out, Yea, and wonders without number.[208]

LXIX

Lo, he glideth by me and I see him not; And he pa.s.seth on, but I perceive him not.

Behold, he taketh away, and who can hinder him?

Who will say unto him: "What dost thou?"

LXX

G.o.d will not withdraw his anger; The very helpers of the sea-dragon[209] crouch under him.

How much less shall I answer him, And choose out my words to argue with him?

LXXI

I must make supplication unto his judgment, Who doth not answer me, though I am righteous, Who would sweep me away with a tempest, And multiply my wounds without cause!

LXXII

He will not suffer me to take my breath, But filleth me with bitterness.

If strength be aught, lo, he is strong, And if judgment, who shall arraign him?

LXXIII

Though I were just, my own mouth would condemn me: Though I were faultless, he would make me crooked.

Faultless I am, I set life at naught; I spurn my being, therefore I speak out.

LXXIV

He destroyeth the upright and the wicked, When his scourge slayeth at unawares.

He scoffeth at the trial of the innocent: The earth is given into the hand of the wicked.

LXXV

My days are swifter than a runner: They flee away, they have seen no good; They glide along like papyrus-boats, Like the eagle swooping upon its prey.

LXXVI

If I say: "I will forget my complaint, I will gladden my face and be cheerful;"

Then I shudder at all my sorrows: I know thou wilt not hold me guiltless.

LXXVII

If I washed myself with snow, And cleansed my hands with lye, Thou wouldst plunge me in the ditch, So that mine own garments would loathe me.

LXXVIII

Would he were like unto myself, that I might answer him, That we might come together in judgment!

Would there were an umpire between us, Who might lay his hand upon us both!

LXXIX

Let him but withdraw from me his rod, And let not dread of him terrify me; Then would I speak and not fear him, For before myself I am not so.[210]

Lx.x.x

My soul is aweary of life, I will let loose my complaint against G.o.d; I will say unto G.o.d: Hold me not guilty; Show me wherefore thou contendest with me.

Lx.x.xI

Is it meet that thou shouldst oppress, Shouldst thrust aside the work of thine hands?

Seest thou as man seeth?

Are thy days as the days of mortals?

Lx.x.xII

For thou inquirest after mine iniquity, And searchest after my sin, Though thou knowest that I am not wicked, And that there is none who can deliver out of thine hand.