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My soul hath been weary of my life, I leave off my talking to myself, I speak in the bitterness of my soul.
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I say unto God, `Do not condemn me, Let me know why Thou dost strive with me.
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Is it good for Thee that Thou dost oppress? That Thou despisest the labour of Thy hands, And on the counsel of the wicked hast shone?
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Eyes of flesh hast Thou? As man seeth--seest Thou?
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As the days of man are Thy days? Thy years as the days of a man?
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That Thou inquirest for mine iniquity, And for my sin seekest?
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For Thou knowest that I am not wicked, And there is no deliverer from Thy hand.
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Thy hands have taken pains about me, And they make me together round about, And Thou swallowest me up!
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Remember, I pray Thee, That as clay Thou hast made me, And unto dust Thou dost bring me back.
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Dost Thou not as milk pour me out? And as cheese curdle me?
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Skin and flesh Thou dost put on me, And with bones and sinews dost fence me.
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Life and kindness Thou hast done with me. And Thy inspection hath preserved my spirit.
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And these Thou hast laid up in Thy heart, I have known that this is with Thee.
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If I sinned, then Thou hast observed me, And from mine iniquity dost not acquit me,
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If I have done wickedly--woe to me, And righteously--I lift not up my head, Full of shame--then see my affliction,
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And it riseth--as a lion Thou huntest me. And Thou turnest back--Thou shewest Thyself wonderful in me.
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Thou renewest Thy witnesses against me, And dost multiply Thine anger with me, Changes and warfare are with me.
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And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
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As I had not been, I am, From the belly to the grave I am brought,
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Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
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Before I go, and return not, Unto a land of darkness and death-shade,
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A land of obscurity as thick darkness, Death-shade--and no order, And the shining is as thick darkness.'