Job.
Chapter 10.
I am weary of my life; I will let loose within me my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul. 
I will say unto God, Do not condemn me! Show me wherefore thou contendest with me! 
Is it a pleasure to thee to oppress, And to despise the work of thy hands, And to shine upon the plans of the wicked? 
Hast thou eyes of flesh, Or seest thou as man seeth? 
Are thy days as the days of a man, Are thy years as the days of a mortal, 
That thou seekest after my iniquity, And searchest after my sin, 
Though thou knowest that I am not guilty, And that none can deliver from thy hand? 
Have thy hands completely fashioned and made me In every part, that thou mightst destroy me? 
O remember that thou hast moulded me as clay! And wilt thou bring me again to dust? 
Thou didst pour me out as milk, And curdle me as cheese; 
With skin and flesh didst thou clothe me, And strengthen me with bones and sinews; 
Thou didst grant me life and favor, And thy protection preserved my breath: 
Yet these things thou didst lay up in thy heart! I know that this was in thy mind. 
If I sin, then thou markest me, And wilt not acquit me of mine iniquity. 
If I am wicked,—then woe unto me! Yet if righteous, I dare not lift up my head; I am full of confusion, beholding my affliction. 
If I lift it up, like a lion thou huntest me, And again showest thyself terrible unto me. 
Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, And increasest thine anger toward me; New hosts continually rise up against me. 
Why then didst thou bring me forth from the womb? I should have perished, and no eye had seen me; 
I should be as though I had not been; I should have been borne from the womb to the grave. 
Are not my days few? O spare then, And let me alone, that I may be at ease a little while, 
Before I go— whence I shall not return—To the land of darkness and death-shade, 
The land of darkness like the blackness of death-shade, Where is no order, and where the light is as darkness. 
