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American Standard » Job » 9. fejezet
1
Then Job answered and said,
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Of a truth I know that it is so: But how can man be just with God?
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If he be pleased to contend with him, He cannot answer him one of a thousand.
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`He is' wise in heart, and mighty in strength: Who hath hardened himself against him, and prospered?-
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`Him' that removeth the mountains, and they know it not, When he overturneth them in his anger;
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That shaketh the earth out of its place, And the pillars thereof tremble;
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That commandeth the sun, and it riseth not, And sealeth up the stars;
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That alone stretcheth out the heavens, And treadeth upon the waves of the sea;
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That maketh the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, And the chambers of the south;
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That doeth great things past finding out, Yea, marvellous things without number.
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Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not: He passeth on also, but I perceive him not.
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Behold, he seizeth `the prey', who can hinder him? Who will say unto him, What doest thou?
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God will not withdraw his anger; The helpers of Rahab do stoop under him.
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How much less shall I answer him, And choose out my words `to reason' with him?
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Whom, though I were righteous, yet would I not answer; I would make supplication to my judge.
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If I had called, and he had answered me, Yet would I not believe that he hearkened unto my voice.
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For he breaketh me with a tempest, And multiplieth my wounds without cause.
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He will not suffer me to take my breath, But filleth me with bitterness.
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If `we speak' of strength, lo, `he is' mighty! And if of justice, Who, `saith he', will summon me?
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Though I be righteous, mine own mouth shall condemn me: Though I be perfect, it shall prove me perverse.
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I am perfect; I regard not myself; I despise my life.
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It is all one; therefore I say, He destroyeth the perfect and the wicked.
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If the scourge slay suddenly, He will mock at the trial of the innocent.
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The earth is given into the hand of the wicked; He covereth the faces of the judges thereof: If `it be' not `he', who then is it?
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Now my days are swifter than a post: They flee away, they see no good,
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They are passed away as the swift ships; As the eagle that swoopeth on the prey.
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If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will put off my `sad' countenance, and be of good cheer;
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I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that thou wilt not hold me innocent.
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I shall be condemned; Why then do I labor in vain?
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If I wash myself with snow water, And make my hands never so clean;
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Yet wilt thou plunge me in the ditch, And mine own clothes shall abhor me.
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For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, That we should come together in judgment.
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There is no umpire betwixt us, That might lay his hand upon us both.
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Let him take his rod away from me, And let not his terror make me afraid:
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Then would I speak, and not fear him; For I am not so in myself.