Job Admits Feeling Persecuted

“My soul is weary of my life
I don’t mind saying that:
I speak in bitterness.

“I have this to say to God:
Do not condemn me!
Show me why you have done this.
How is it good that you oppress?
How is it good that you despise your own creation?
How is it good that goodness goes unrewarded?

“Do you have eyes of flesh?
Do you see as we humans see?
Are your days the days of a human life?
Are your years like human years?
Is that why you bring me to trial?
Is that why you search for my sin?

“You know that I am not wicked.
You know there is no escape from you.
Your hands have made me,
Shaped me into what I am,
Yet you destroy me.
Remember, please, that you
Made me from clay,
And you will bring me to dust again.

“Haven’t you poured me out like milk
And curdled me like cheese?
You clothed me with skin and flesh,
And fenced me in with bones and muscle.
You granted me life and grace,
And your presence preserved my spirit.
You know these things in your heart;
I know you remember these things.

“If I do wrong, you see it,
And you do not approve.
If I am wicked, woe unto me.
But if I be good . . .
Woe unto me in that case too!

“I am confused!


“This is what torments me.
It just gets worse.
First, you hunt me like a fierce lion,
Then, you are marvelous to me.
Then, you accuse me of something else,
And the war starts all over again.

“Why is it I was born?
If only I had died
Before any eye ever looked upon me!
If only I had never been,
Or had been carried straight
From womb to grave.

“Isn’t my life short enough already?
Stop, then! Just leave me alone
So I can find some little comfort
Before I go to that place
From whence there is no return,
To that land of darkness
And the shadow of death,
That place soaked in chaos
Where the light is like darkness.”