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Thursday, January 17, 2019
The Books of Poetry
Lo, all -- hath mine eye seen, Heard hath mine ear, and it attendeth to it.
According to your knowledge I have known -- also I. I am not fallen more than you.
Yet I for the Mighty One do speak, And to argue for God I delight.
And yet, ye [are] forgers of falsehood, Physicians of nought -- all of you,
O that ye would keep perfectly silent, And it would be to you for wisdom.
Hear, I pray you, my argument, And to the pleadings of my lips attend,
For God do ye speak perverseness? And for Him do ye speak deceit?
His face do ye accept, if for God ye strive?
Is [it] good that He doth search you, If, as one mocketh at a man, ye mock at Him?
He doth surely reprove you, if in secret ye accept faces.
Doth not His excellency terrify you? And His dread fall upon you?
Your remembrances [are] similes of ashes, For high places of clay your heights.
Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.
Also -- He [is] to me for salvation, For the profane cometh not before Him.
Hear ye diligently my word, And my declaration with your ears.
Lo, I pray you, I have set in order the cause, I have known that I am righteous.
Who [is] he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
Only two things, O God, do with me: Then from Thy face I am not hidden.
Thy hand put far off from me, And Thy terror let not terrify me.
And call Thou, and I -- I answer, Or -- I speak, and answer Thou me.
How many iniquities and sins have I? My transgression and my sin let me know.
Why dost Thou hide Thy face? And reckonest me for an enemy to Thee?
A leaf driven away dost Thou terrify? And the dry stubble dost Thou pursue?
For Thou writest against me bitter things, And causest me to possess iniquities of my youth:
And puttest in the stocks my feet, And observest all my paths, On the roots of my feet Thou settest a print,
And he, as a rotten thing, weareth away, As a garment hath a moth consumed him.
Man, born of woman! Of few days, and full of trouble!
As a flower he hath gone forth, and is cut off, And he fleeth as a shadow and standeth not.
Also -- on this Thou hast opened Thine eyes, And dost bring me into judgment with Thee.
Who giveth a clean thing out of an unclean? not one.
If determined are his days, The number of his months [are] with Thee, His limit Thou hast made, And he passeth not over;
Look away from off him that he may cease, Till he enjoy as an hireling his day.
For there is of a tree hope, if it be cut down, That again it doth change, That its tender branch doth not cease.
If its root becometh old in the earth, And its stem doth die in the dust,
From the fragrance of water it doth flourish, And hath made a crop as a plant.
And a man dieth, and becometh weak, And man expireth, and where [is] he?
Waters have gone away from a sea, And a river becometh waste and dry.
And man hath lain down, and riseth not, Till the wearing out of the heavens they awake not, Nor are roused from their sleep.
O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
If a man dieth -- doth he revive? All days of my warfare I wait, till my change come.
Thou dost call, and I -- I answer Thee; To the work of Thy hands Thou hast desire.
But now, my steps Thou numberest, Thou dost not watch over my sin.
Sealed up in a bag [is] my transgression, And Thou sewest up mine iniquity.
And yet, a falling mountain wasteth away, And a rock is removed from its place.
Stones have waters worn away, Their outpourings wash away the dust of earth, And the hope of man Thou hast destroyed.
Thou prevailest [over] him for ever, and he goeth, He is changing his countenance, And Thou sendest him away.
Honoured are his sons, and he knoweth not; And they are little, and he attendeth not to them.
Only -- his flesh for him is pained, And his soul for him doth mourn.'
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