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And Job answereth and saith: --
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Truly I have known that it is so, And what--is man righteous with God?
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If he delight to strive with Him--He doth not answer him one of a thousand.
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Wise in heart and strong in power--Who hath hardened toward Him and is at peace?
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Who is removing mountains, And they have not known, Who hath overturned them in His anger.
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Who is shaking earth from its place, And its pillars move themselves.
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Who is speaking to the sun, and it riseth not, And the stars He sealeth up.
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Stretching out the heavens by Himself, And treading on the heights of the sea,
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Making Osh, Kesil, and Kimah, And the inner chambers of the south.
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Doing great things till there is no searching, And wonderful, till there is no numbering.
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Lo, He goeth over by me, and I see not, And He passeth on, and I attend not to it.
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Lo, He snatches away, who bringeth it back? Who saith unto Him, `What dost Thou?'
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God doth not turn back His anger, Under Him bowed have proud helpers.
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How much less do I--I answer Him? Choose out my words with Him?
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Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.
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Though I had called and He answereth me, I do not believe that He giveth ear to my voice.
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Because with a tempest He bruiseth me, And hath multiplied my wounds for nought.
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He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
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If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment--who doth convene me?
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If I be righteous, Mine mouth doth declare me wicked, Perfect I am! --it declareth me perverse.
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Perfect I am! --I know not my soul, I despise my life.
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It is the same thing, therefore I said, `The perfect and the wicked He is consuming.'
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If a scourge doth put to death suddenly, At the trial of the innocent He laugheth.
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Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not--where, who is he?
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My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,
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They have passed on with ships of reed, As an eagle darteth on food.
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Though I say, `I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
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I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
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I--I am become wicked; why is this? In vain I labour.
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If I have washed myself with snow-water, And purified with soap my hands,
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Then in corruption Thou dost dip me, And my garments have abominated me.
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But if a man like myself--I answer him, We come together into judgment.
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If there were between us an umpire, He doth place his hand on us both.
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He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,
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I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.