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Thursday, December 21, 2017
The Books of Poetry
Pray, call, is there any to answer thee? And unto which of the holy ones dost thou turn?
For provocation slayeth the perverse, And envy putteth to death the simple,
I -- I have seen the perverse taking root, And I mark his habitation straightway,
Far are his sons from safety, And they are bruised in the gate, And there is no deliverer.
Whose harvest the hungry doth eat, And even from the thorns taketh it, And the designing swallowed their wealth.
For sorrow cometh not forth from the dust, Nor from the ground springeth up misery.
For man to misery is born, And the sparks go high to fly.
Yet I -- I inquire for God, And for God I give my word,
Doing great things, and there is no searching. Wonderful, till there is no numbering.
Who is giving rain on the face of the land, And is sending waters on the out-places.
To set the low on a high place, And the mourners have been high [in] safety.
Making void thoughts of the subtile, And their hands do not execute wisdom.
Capturing the wise in their subtilty, And the counsel of wrestling ones was hastened,
By day they meet darkness, And as night -- they grope at noon.
And He saveth the wasted from their mouth, And from a strong hand the needy,
And there is hope to the poor, And perverseness hath shut her mouth.
Lo, the happiness of mortal man, God doth reprove him: And the chastisement of the Mighty despise not,
For He doth pain, and He bindeth up, He smiteth, and His hands heal.
In six distresses He delivereth thee, And in seven evil striketh not on thee.
In famine He hath redeemed thee from death, And in battle from the hands of the sword.
When the tongue scourgeth thou art hid, And thou art not afraid of destruction, When it cometh.
At destruction and at hunger thou mockest, And of the beast of the earth, Thou art not afraid.
(For with sons of the field [is] thy covenant, And the beast of the field Hath been at peace with thee.)
And thou hast known that thy tent [is] peace, And inspected thy habitation, and errest not,
And hast known that numerous [is] Thy seed, And thine offspring as the herb of the earth;
Thou comest in full age unto the grave, As the going up of a stalk in its season.
Lo, this -- we searched it out -- it [is] right, hearken; And thou, know for thyself!
And Job answereth and saith: --
O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!
For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
For arrows of the Mighty [are] with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves [for] me!
Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?
Eaten is an insipid thing without salt? Is there sense in the drivel of dreams?
My soul is refusing to touch! They [are] as my sickening food.
O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.
What [is] my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?
Is my strength the strength of stones? Is my flesh brazen?
Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
To a despiser of his friends [is] shame, And the fear of the Mighty he forsaketh.
My brethren have deceived as a brook, As a stream of brooks they pass away.
That are black because of ice, By them doth snow hide itself.
By the time they are warm they have been cut off, By its being hot they have been Extinguished from their place.
Turn aside do the paths of their way, They ascend into emptiness, and are lost.
Passengers of Tema looked expectingly, Travellers of Sheba hoped for them.
They were ashamed that one hath trusted, They have come unto it and are confounded.
Surely now ye have become the same! Ye see a downfall, and are afraid.
Is it because I said, Give to me? And, By your power bribe for me?
And, Deliver me from the hand of an adversary? And, From the hand of terrible ones ransom me?
Shew me, and I -- I keep silent, And what I have erred, let me understand.
How powerful have been upright sayings, And what doth reproof from you reprove?
For reproof -- do you reckon words? And for wind -- sayings of the desperate.
Anger on the fatherless ye cause to fall, And are strange to your friend.
And, now, please, look upon me, Even to your face do I lie?
Turn back, I pray you, let it not be perverseness, Yea, turn back again -- my righteousness [is] in it.
Is there in my tongue perverseness? Discerneth not my palate desirable things?
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