Job 10
My soul loathes my life,
Let me give free rein to my lament,
Speak out in the bitterness of my soul.
I say to God,
Do not condemn me,
Let me know,
Why you contend against me?
Does it do you good to practice oppression,
To despise the work of Your hand,
Showing favor to the plans of the wicked?
Have you eyes of Flesh,
Do you perceive as does a mere mortal?
Are your days as those of a mortal?
Are your years as those of a person?
That you seek out my iniquity,
And probe after my sin?
In spite of your knowing that I am not guilty,
No one can deliver me from your hand.
Your hands shaped and made me,
Every part of me,
Yet now you would destroy me.
Remember, I pray, that you fashioned me of clay,
And to dust you will return me.
You poured me out like milk,
Curdled me like cheese.
You clothed me in flesh and skin,
Wove me tighter with sinew and bones
In your love, you granted me life,
In your providence, you preserved my spirit.
Yet all this you have stored in your heart,
I know that this is in your mind,
To watch me, if I sin,
To not let me escape my guilt.
If guilty, woe betide me,
Yet if innocent, I could not raise my head,
Being filled with shame, and sated with misery.
If I hold me head high,
You stalk me like a lion,
Time and again,
Display your awesome power to smite me.
You constantly summon fresh witnesses against me,
Letting your vexation with me swell,
Wave after wave of hardship assails me.
Why did you bring me forth from the womb,
Better I had perished before any eye had seen me.
Had I been as though I never was,
Carried from womb to grave.
My days are few, so desist,
Leave me alone, that I may be diverted a little.
Before I go, never to return,
To the land of darkness and gloom.
A land whose light is darkness,
Deep gloom and disorder,
Where it shines thickest murk.