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Moff by section JOB 9:1

⌂ ← JOB 9:1–9:35 → ║ ═ ©

Job 9

9 Then Eyob replied:

“Yes, it is true; I know it;

but how is man to get his rights from God?

Even if God chose to argue,

you could not answer one of his thousand questions.

He is so wise, so mighty--

who ever defied him without scathe?

Mountains he moves, and never notices

when he upsets them in his anger;

he shakes the earth out of its place,

till its pillars are a-trembling;

he can forbid the sun to shine,

he can seal up the stars;

he spreads the heavens out, all unhelped,

and stalks along their heights;

he makes Orion and the Pleiades,

the constellations of the south;

he does great things beyond our ken,

marvels beyond all reckoning.

He passes me--I cannot see him;

he sweeps on--I behold him not;

he pounces--who can stop him?

Who dare ask him what he means?

God will let his wrath have way;

made the Dragon’s very allies quail.

How then could I answer him,

what words could I pick to dispute with him?

I would not answer him, though I were in the right,

but beg my adversary to have pity.

Were I to summon him, he would not answer;

I cannot believe that he would listen.

For he storms and strikes at me

with many a wanton blow;

he will not let me draw my breath,

but fills me full of bitter woe.

Is it a trial of strength? Well, there he stands!

Is it a lawsuit? Who then can arraign him?

His lips would condemn me, were I in the right;

and were I blameless, he would prove me wrong!

But I am blameless!--never mind,

I care not about life; what matters it?

He destroys blameless and bad men alike.

(He does not? well, who is it, then?)

When he is scourging us with sudden death,

he mocks at the despair of innocent men.

The world is handed over to the wicked;

he makes the rulers of men blind to justice!

My days go quicker than a courier,

they fly without one happy ray,

they flit as rapidly as skiffs,

like eagles swooping on their prey.

I think to forget about my anguish,

to cheer up and cast care aside;

but I am in dread still of my pain--

I know thou wilt not let me off.

I am bound to be held guilty;

why should I struggle, then, in vain?

Were I to wash myself with snow,

and make my hands ever so white and clean,

thou would’st plunge me in the mud,

till my very friends would loathe me.

He is not a man like me,

that we might meet for a fair trial

(Oh for some umpire over both of us,

who might decide our case!)

Let him but lift his rod from me,

let him not overawe me with his terror!

Then I would not be afraid to speak--

for inwardly I have no guilty fears.

⌂ ← JOB 9:1–9:35 → ║ ═ ©

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