Post by 17qCgd…ASXj

As for me, is my complaint to man? And why should I not be impatient?

Mark me, and be astonished, And lay your hand upon your mouth.

Who shall declare his way to his face? And who shall repay him what he hath done?

His pails are full of milk, And the marrow of his bones is moistened.

Let his own eyes see his destruction, And let him drink of the wrath of the Almighty.

Wherefore do the wicked live, Become old, yea, wax mighty in power?

Even when I remember I am troubled, And horror taketh hold on my flesh.

How then comfort ye me in vain, Seeing in your answers there remaineth `only' falsehood?

They lie down alike in the dust, And the worm covereth them.

And they say unto God, Depart from us; For we desire not the knowledge of thy ways.

For ye say, Where is the house of the prince? And where is the tent wherein the wicked dwelt?

Their houses are safe from fear, Neither is the rod of God upon them.

One dieth in his full strength, Being wholly at ease and quiet:

Their bull gendereth, and faileth not; Their cow calveth, and casteth not her calf.

And another dieth in bitterness of soul, And never tasteth of good.

Lo, their prosperity is not in their hand: The counsel of the wicked is far from me.

Behold, I know your thoughts, And the devices wherewith ye would wrong me.