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Pray, call, is there any to answer thee? And unto which of the holy ones dost thou turn?
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For provocation slayeth the perverse, And envy putteth to death the simple,
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I--I have seen the perverse taking root, And I mark his habitation straightway,
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Far are his sons from safety, And they are bruised in the gate, And there is no deliverer.
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Whose harvest the hungry doth eat, And even from the thorns taketh it, And the designing swallowed their wealth.
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For sorrow cometh not forth from the dust, Nor from the ground springeth up misery.
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For man to misery is born, And the sparks go high to fly.
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Yet I--I inquire for God, And for God I give my word,
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Doing great things, and there is no searching. Wonderful, till there is no numbering.
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Who is giving rain on the face of the land, And is sending waters on the out-places.
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To set the low on a high place, And the mourners have been high in safety.
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Making void thoughts of the subtile, And their hands do not execute wisdom.
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Capturing the wise in their subtilty, And the counsel of wrestling ones was hastened,
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By day they meet darkness, And as night--they grope at noon.
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And He saveth the wasted from their mouth, And from a strong hand the needy,
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And there is hope to the poor, And perverseness hath shut her mouth.
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Lo, the happiness of mortal man, God doth reprove him: And the chastisement of the Mighty despise not,
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For He doth pain, and He bindeth up, He smiteth, and His hands heal.
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In six distresses He delivereth thee, And in seven evil striketh not on thee.
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In famine He hath redeemed thee from death, And in battle from the hands of the sword.
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When the tongue scourgeth thou art hid, And thou art not afraid of destruction, When it cometh.
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At destruction and at hunger thou mockest, And of the beast of the earth, Thou art not afraid.
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(For with sons of the field is thy covenant, And the beast of the field Hath been at peace with thee.)
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And thou hast known that thy tent is peace, And inspected thy habitation, and errest not,
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And hast known that numerous is Thy seed, And thine offspring as the herb of the earth;
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Thou comest in full age unto the grave, As the going up of a stalk in its season.
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Lo, this--we searched it out--it is right, hearken; And thou, know for thyself!