Job.
Chapter 10.
“My soul has been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul. 
I say to God, Do not condemn me, || Let me know why You strive with me. 
Is it good for You that You oppress? That You despise the labor of Your hands, || And shine on the counsel of the wicked? 
Do you have eyes of flesh? Do You see as man sees? 
Are Your days as the days of man? Your years as the days of a man? 
That You inquire for my iniquity, || And seek for my sin? 
For You know that I am not wicked, || And there is no deliverer from Your hand. 
Your hands have taken pains about me, || And they make me together all around, || And You swallow me up! 
Please remember || That You have made me as clay, || And You bring me back to dust. 
Do You not pour me out as milk? And curdle me as cheese? 
Skin and flesh You put on me, || And fence me with bones and sinews. 
Life and kindness You have done with me. And Your inspection has preserved my spirit. 
And these You have laid up in Your heart, I have known that this is with You. 
If I sinned, then You have observed me, || And do not acquit me from my iniquity, 
If I have done wickedly—woe to me, || And righteously—I do not lift up my head, || Full of shame—then see my affliction, 
And it rises—as a lion You hunt me. And You turn back—You show Yourself wonderful in me. 
You renew Your witnesses against me, and multiply Your anger with me, || Changes and warfare are with me. 
And why from the womb || Have You brought me forth? I expire, and the eye does not see me. 
I am as if I had not been, || I am brought from the belly to the grave, 
Are my days not few? Cease then, and put from me, || And I brighten up a little, 
Before I go, and do not return, || To 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.” 
