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Thursday, January 3, 2019
The Books of Poetry
And Job answereth and saith: --
Truly I have known that [it is] so, And what -- is man righteous with God?
If he delight to strive with Him -- He doth not answer him one of a thousand.
Wise in heart and strong in power -- Who hath hardened toward Him and is at peace?
Who is removing mountains, And they have not known, Who hath overturned them in His anger.
Who is shaking earth from its place, And its pillars move themselves.
Who is speaking to the sun, and it riseth not, And the stars He sealeth up.
Stretching out the heavens by Himself, And treading on the heights of the sea,
Making Osh, Kesil, and Kimah, And the inner chambers of the south.
Doing great things till there is no searching, And wonderful, till there is no numbering.
Lo, He goeth over by me, and I see not, And He passeth on, and I attend not to it.
Lo, He snatches away, who bringeth it back? Who saith unto Him, `What dost Thou?'
God doth not turn back His anger, Under Him bowed have proud helpers.
How much less do I -- I answer Him? Choose out my words with Him?
Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.
Though I had called and He answereth me, I do not believe that He giveth ear [to] my voice.
Because with a tempest He bruiseth me, And hath multiplied my wounds for nought.
He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment -- who doth convene me?
If I be righteous, Mine mouth doth declare me wicked, Perfect I am! -- it declareth me perverse.
Perfect I am! -- I know not my soul, I despise my life.
It is the same thing, therefore I said, `The perfect and the wicked He is consuming.'
If a scourge doth put to death suddenly, At the trial of the innocent He laugheth.
Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not -- where, who [is] he?
My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,
They have passed on with ships of reed, As an eagle darteth on food.
Though I say, `I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
I -- I am become wicked; why [is] this? [In] vain I labour.
If I have washed myself with snow-water, And purified with soap my hands,
Then in corruption Thou dost dip me, And my garments have abominated me.
But if a man like myself -- I answer him, We come together into judgment.
If there were between us an umpire, He doth place his hand on us both.
He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,
I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.
My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
I say unto God, `Do not condemn me, Let me know why Thou dost strive [with] me.
Is it good for Thee that Thou dost oppress? That Thou despisest the labour of Thy hands, And on the counsel of the wicked hast shone?
Eyes of flesh hast Thou? As man seeth -- seest Thou?
As the days of man [are] Thy days? Thy years as the days of a man?
That Thou inquirest for mine iniquity, And for my sin seekest?
For Thou knowest that I am not wicked, And there is no deliverer from Thy hand.
Thy hands have taken pains about me, And they make me together round about, And Thou swallowest me up!
Remember, I pray Thee, That as clay Thou hast made me, And unto dust Thou dost bring me back.
Dost Thou not as milk pour me out? And as cheese curdle me?
Skin and flesh Thou dost put on me, And with bones and sinews dost fence me.
Life and kindness Thou hast done with me. And Thy inspection hath preserved my spirit.
And these Thou hast laid up in Thy heart, I have known that this [is] with Thee.
If I sinned, then Thou hast observed me, And from mine iniquity dost not acquit me,
If I have done wickedly -- wo to me, And righteously -- I lift not up my head, Full of shame -- then see my affliction,
And it riseth -- as a lion Thou huntest me. And Thou turnest back -- Thou shewest Thyself wonderful in me.
Thou renewest Thy witnesses against me, And dost multiply Thine anger with me, Changes and warfare [are] with me.
And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
As I had not been, I am, From the belly to the grave I am brought,
Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
Before I go, and return not, Unto 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.'
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