What my soul refuseth to touch, that is as my loathsome food.

And that it would please +God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off!

Oh that I might have my request, and that +God would grant my desire!

For him that is fainting kindness is meet from his friend; or he forsaketh the fear of the Almighty.

Is it not that there is no help in me, and soundness is driven away from me?

The caravans of Tema looked, the companies of Sheba counted on them:

Then should I yet have comfort; and in the pain which spareth not I would rejoice that I have not denied the words of the Holy One.

What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should have patience?

Is my strength the strength of stones? is my flesh of brass?

My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a stream, as the channel of streams which pass away,

Shall that which is insipid be eaten without salt? Is there any taste in the white of an egg?

For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, their poison drinketh up my spirit: the terrors of +God are arrayed against me.

And Job answered and said,

Teach me, and I will hold my tongue; and cause me to understand wherein I have erred.

Which are turbid by reason of the ice, in which the snow hideth itself:

So now ye are nothing; ye see a terrible object and are afraid.

Did I say, Bring unto me, and make me a present from your substance?

Doth the wild ass bray by the grass? loweth an ox over his fodder?

At the time they diminish, they are dried up; when heat affecteth them, they vanish from their place:

Oh that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and all my calamity laid in the balances!

For now it would be heavier than the sand of the seas; therefore my words are vehement.

They wind about in the paths of their course, they go off into the waste and perish.

Yea, ye overwhelm the fatherless, and dig a pit for your friend.

How forcible are right words! but what doth your upbraiding reprove?

They are ashamed at their hope; they come thither, and are confounded.

Or, rescue me from the hand of the oppressor, and redeem me from the hand of the violent?

Do ye imagine to reprove words? The speeches of one that is desperate are indeed for the wind.

Is there wrong in my tongue? cannot my taste discern mischievous things?

Now therefore if ye will, look upon me; and it shall be to your face if I lie.

Return, I pray you, let there be no wrong; yea, return again, my righteousness shall be in it.