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Thursday, February 7, 2019
The Books of Poetry
I Corinthians 3-4
And Job answereth and saith: --
Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?
These ten times ye put me to shame, ye blush not. Ye make yourselves strange to me --
And also -- truly, I have erred, With me doth my error remain.
If, truly, over me ye magnify yourselves, And decide against me my reproach;
Know now, that God turned me upside down, And His net against me hath set round,
Lo, I cry out -- violence, and am not answered, I cry aloud, and there is no judgment.
My way He hedged up, and I pass not over, And on my paths darkness He placeth.
Mine honour from off me He hath stripped, And He turneth the crown from my head.
He breaketh me down round about, and I go, And removeth like a tree my hope.
And He kindleth against me His anger, And reckoneth me to Him as His adversaries.
Come in do His troops together, And they raise up against me their way, And encamp round about my tent.
My brethren from me He hath put far off, And mine acquaintances surely Have been estranged from me.
Ceased have my neighbours And my familiar friends have forgotten me,
Sojourners of my house and my maids, For a stranger reckon me: An alien I have been in their eyes.
To my servant I have called, And he doth not answer, With my mouth I make supplication to him.
My spirit is strange to my wife, And my favours to the sons of my [mother's] womb.
Also sucklings have despised me, I rise, and they speak against me.
Abominate me do all the men of my counsel, And those I have loved, Have been turned against me.
To my skin and to my flesh Cleaved hath my bone, And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth.
Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me.
Why do you pursue me as God? And with my flesh are not satisfied?
Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
With a pen of iron and lead -- For ever in a rock they may be hewn.
That -- I have known my Redeemer, The Living and the Last, For the dust he doth rise.
And after my skin hath compassed this [body], Then from my flesh I see God:
Whom I -- I see on my side, And mine eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, Consumed have been my reins in my bosom.
But ye say, `Why do we pursue after him?' And the root of the matter hath been found in me.
Be ye afraid because of the sword, For furious [are] the punishments of the sword, That ye may know that [there is] a judgment.
And Zophar the Naamathite answereth and saith: --
Therefore my thoughts cause me to answer, And because of my sensations in me.
The chastisement of my shame I hear, And the spirit of mine understanding Doth cause me to answer:
This hast thou known from antiquity? Since the placing of man on earth?
That the singing of the wicked [is] short, And the joy of the profane for a moment,
Though his excellency go up to the heavens, And his head against a cloud he strike --
As his own dung for ever he doth perish, His beholders say: `Where [is] he?'
As a dream he fleeth, and they find him not, And he is driven away as a vision of the night,
The eye hath not seen him, and addeth not. And not again doth his place behold him.
His sons do the poor oppress, And his hands give back his wealth.
His bones have been full of his youth, And with him on the dust it lieth down.
Though he doth sweeten evil in his mouth, Doth hide it under his tongue,
Hath pity on it, and doth not forsake it, And keep it back in the midst of his palate,
His food in his bowels is turned, The bitterness of asps [is] in his heart.
Wealth he hath swallowed, and doth vomit it. From his belly God driveth it out.
Gall of asps he sucketh, Slay him doth the tongue of a viper.
He looketh not on rivulets, Flowing of brooks of honey and butter.
He is giving back [what] he laboured for, And doth not consume [it]; As a bulwark [is] his exchange, and he exults not.
For he oppressed -- he forsook the poor, A house he hath taken violently away, And he doth not build it.
For he hath not known ease in his belly. With his desirable thing he delivereth not himself.
There is not a remnant to his food, Therefore his good doth not stay.
In the fulness of his sufficiency he is straitened. Every perverse hand doth meet him.
It cometh to pass, at the filling of his belly, He sendeth forth against him The fierceness of His anger, Yea, He raineth on him in his eating.
He fleeth from an iron weapon, Pass through him doth a bow of brass.
One hath drawn, And it cometh out from the body, And a glittering weapon from his gall proceedeth. On him [are] terrors.
All darkness is hid for his treasures, Consume him doth a fire not blown, Broken is the remnant in his tent.
Reveal do the heavens his iniquity, And earth is raising itself against him.
Remove doth the increase of his house, Poured forth in a day of His anger.
This [is] the portion of a wicked man from God. And an inheritance appointed him by God.
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