Job.
Chapter 19.
And Job answereth and saith: — 
Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words? 
These ten times ye put me to shame, ye blush not. Ye make yourselves strange to me — 
And also — truly, I have erred, With me doth my error remain. 
If, truly, over me ye magnify yourselves, And decide against me my reproach; 
Know now, that God turned me upside down, And His net against me hath set round, 
Lo, I cry out — violence, and am not answered, I cry aloud, and there is no judgment. 
My way He hedged up, and I pass not over, And on my paths darkness He placeth. 
Mine honour from off me He hath stripped, And He turneth the crown from my head. 
He breaketh me down round about, and I go, And removeth like a tree my hope. 
And He kindleth against me His anger, And reckoneth me to Him as His adversaries. 
Come in do His troops together, And they raise up against me their way, And encamp round about my tent. 
My brethren from me He hath put far off, And mine acquaintances surely Have been estranged from me. 
Ceased have my neighbours And my familiar friends have forgotten me, 
Sojourners of my house and my maids, For a stranger reckon me: An alien I have been in their eyes. 
To my servant I have called, And he doth not answer, With my mouth I make supplication to him. 
My spirit is strange to my wife, And my favours to the sons of my mother's womb. 
Also sucklings have despised me, I rise, and they speak against me. 
Abominate me do all the men of my counsel, And those I have loved, Have been turned against me. 
To my skin and to my flesh Cleaved hath my bone, And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth. 
Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me. 
Why do you pursue me as God? And with my flesh are not satisfied? 
Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven? 
With a pen of iron and lead — For ever in a rock they may be hewn. 
That — I have known my Redeemer, The Living and the Last, For the dust he doth rise. 
And after my skin hath compassed this body, Then from my flesh I see God: 
Whom I — I see on my side, And mine eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, Consumed have been my reins in my bosom. 
But ye say, 'Why do we pursue after him?' And the root of the matter hath been found in me. 
Be ye afraid because of the sword, For furious are the punishments of the sword, That ye may know that there is a judgment. 
