Job.
Chapter 19.
And Job answers and says: 
“Until when do you afflict my soul, || And bruise me with words? 
These ten times you put me to shame, you do not blush. You make yourselves strange to me— 
And also—truly, I have erred, || My error remains with me. 
If, truly, you magnify yourselves over me, || And decide my reproach against me; 
Know now, that God turned me upside down, || And has set around His net against me, 
Behold, I cry out—violence, and am not answered, I cry aloud, and there is no judgment. 
He hedged up my way, and I do not pass over, || And He places darkness on my paths. 
He has stripped my honor from off me, || And He turns the crown from my head. 
He breaks me down all around, and I go, || And removes my hope like a tree. 
And He kindles His anger against me, || And reckons me to Him as His adversaries. 
His troops come in together, || And they raise up their way against me, || And encamp around my tent. 
He has put my brothers far off from me, || And my acquaintances have surely been estranged from me. 
My neighbors have ceased || And my familiar friends have forgotten me, 
Sojourners of my house and my maids, || Reckon me for a stranger; I have been an alien in their eyes. 
I have called to my servant, || And he does not answer, || With my mouth I make supplication to him. 
My spirit is strange to my wife, || And my favors to the sons of my mother’s womb. 
Also sucklings have despised me, I rise, and they speak against me. 
All the men of my counsel detest me, || And those I have loved, || Have been turned against me. 
To my skin and to my flesh || My bone has cleaved, || And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth. 
Pity me, pity me, you my friends, || For the hand of God has struck against me. 
Why do you pursue me as God? And are not satisfied with my flesh? 
Who grants now, that my words may be written? Who grants that they may be inscribed in a scroll? 
With a pen of iron and lead—They may be hewn in a rock forever. 
That—I have known my Redeemer, || The Living and the Last, || For He raises the dust. 
And after my skin has surrounded this body, || Then from my flesh I see God— 
Whom I see on my side, || And my eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, || My reins have been consumed in my bosom. 
But you say, Why do we pursue after him? And the root of the matter has been found in me. 
Be afraid because of the sword, || For the punishments of the sword are furious, || That you may know that there is a judgment.” 
