Job.
Chapter 16.
And Job answers and says: 
“I have heard many such things, || Miserable comforters are you all. 
Is there an end to words of wind? Or what emboldens you that you answer? 
I also, like you, might speak, || If your soul were in my soul’s stead. I might join against you with words, || And nod at you with my head. 
I might harden you with my mouth, || And the moving of my lips might be sparing. 
If I speak, my pain is not restrained, || And I cease—what goes from me? 
Only, now, it has wearied me; You have desolated all my company, 
And You loathe me, || For it has been a witness, || And my failure rises up against me, || It testifies in my face. 
His anger has torn, and He hates me, || He has gnashed at me with His teeth, || My adversary sharpens His eyes for me. 
They have gaped on me with their mouth, || In reproach they have struck my cheeks, || Together they set themselves against me. 
God shuts me up to the perverse, || And turns me over to the hands of the wicked. 
I have been at ease, and He breaks me, || And He has laid hold on my neck, || And He breaks me in pieces, || And He raises me to Him for a mark. 
His archers go around against me. He split my reins, and does not spare, || He pours out my gall to the earth. 
He breaks me—breach on breach, || He runs on me as a mighty one. 
I have sewed sackcloth on my skin, || And have rolled my horn in the dust. 
My face is foul with weeping, || And on my eyelids is death-shade. 
Not for violence in my hands, || And my prayer is pure. 
O earth, do not cover my blood! And let there not be a place for my cry. 
Also, now, behold, my witness is in the heavens, || And my testifier in the high places. 
My interpreter is my friend, || My eye has dropped to God; 
And He reasons for a man with God, || As a son of man for his friend. 
When a few years come, || Then I go on the path of no return.” 
