Job.
Chapter 19.
But Job answered and said: 
How long will ye vex my soul, And break me in pieces with words? 
These ten times have ye reviled me; Without shame do ye stun me! 
And be it, indeed, that I have erred, My error abideth with myself. 
Since, indeed, ye magnify yourselves against me, And plead against me my reproach, 
Know then that it is God who hath brought me low; He hath encompassed me with his net. 
Behold, I complain of wrong, but receive no answer; I cry aloud, but obtain no justice. 
He hath fenced up my way, so that I cannot pass, And hath set darkness in my paths. 
He hath stripped me of my glory, And taken the crown from my head. 
He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone! He hath torn up my hope like a tree. 
He kindleth his anger against me, And counteth me as his enemy. 
His troops advance together against me; They throw up for themselves a way to me, And encamp around my dwelling. 
My brethren he hath put far from me, And my acquaintance are wholly estranged from me. 
My kinsfolk have forsaken me, And my bosom friends have forgotten me. 
The foreigners of my house, yea, my own maid-servants, regard me as a stranger; I am an alien in their eyes. 
I call my servant, and he maketh no answer; With my own mouth do I entreat him. 
My breath is become strange to my wife, And my prayers also to my own mother's sons. 
Even young children despise me; When I rise up, they speak against me. 
All my bosom friends abhor me, And they whom I loved are turned against me. 
My bones cleave to my flesh and my skin, And I have scarcely escaped with the skin of my teeth. 
Have pity upon me, O ye my friends! have pity upon me; For the hand of God hath smitten me! 
Why do ye persecute me like God, And are not satisfied with my flesh? 
O that my words were now written! O that they were marked down in a scroll! 
That with an iron pen, and with lead, They were engraven upon the rock for ever! 
Yet I know that my Vindicator liveth, And will hereafter stand up on the earth; 
And though with my skin this body be wasted away, Yet without my flesh shall I see God. 
Yea, I shall see him my friend; My eyes shall behold him, and not another: For this, my soul panteth within me. 
Since ye say, “How may we persecute him, And find grounds of accusation against him?” 
Be ye afraid of the sword! For malice is a crime for the sword; That ye may know that judgment cometh. 
