| Chapter 13 |
1 |
Lo, all -- hath mine eye seen, Heard hath mine ear, and it attendeth to it. |
2 |
According to your knowledge I have known -- also I. I am not fallen more than you. |
3 |
Yet I for the Mighty One do speak, And to argue for God I delight. |
4 |
And yet, ye are forgers of falsehood, Physicians of nought -- all of you, |
5 |
O that ye would keep perfectly silent, And it would be to you for wisdom. |
6 |
Hear, I pray you, my argument, And to the pleadings of my lips attend, |
7 |
For God do ye speak perverseness? And for Him do ye speak deceit? |
8 |
His face do ye accept, if for God ye strive? |
9 |
Is it good that He doth search you, If, as one mocketh at a man, ye mock at Him? |
10 |
He doth surely reprove you, if in secret ye accept faces. |
11 |
Doth not His excellency terrify you? And His dread fall upon you? |
12 |
Your remembrances are similes of ashes, For high places of clay your heights. |
13 |
Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what? |
14 |
Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand? |
15 |
Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue. |
16 |
Also -- He is to me for salvation, For the profane cometh not before Him. |
17 |
Hear ye diligently my word, And my declaration with your ears. |
18 |
Lo, I pray you, I have set in order the cause, I have known that I am righteous. |
19 |
Who is he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp. |
20 |
Only two things, O God, do with me: Then from Thy face I am not hidden. |
21 |
Thy hand put far off from me, And Thy terror let not terrify me. |
22 |
And call Thou, and I -- I answer, Or -- I speak, and answer Thou me. |
23 |
How many iniquities and sins have I? My transgression and my sin let me know. |
24 |
Why dost Thou hide Thy face? And reckonest me for an enemy to Thee? |
25 |
A leaf driven away dost Thou terrify? And the dry stubble dost Thou pursue? |
26 |
For Thou writest against me bitter things, And causest me to possess iniquities of my youth: |
27 |
And puttest in the stocks my feet, And observest all my paths, On the roots of my feet Thou settest a print, |
28 |
And he, as a rotten thing, weareth away, As a garment hath a moth consumed him. |