King James Version › Job › 10

Job

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1 My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my com­plaint upon my­self; I will speak in the bit­ter­ness of my soul. 2 I will say unto God, Do not con­demn me; shew me where­fore thou con­tend­est with me. 3 Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest op­press, that thou shouldest de­spise the work of thine hands, and shine upon the coun­sel of the wicked? 4 Hast thou eyes of flesh? or seest thou as man seeth? 5 Are thy days as the days of man? are thy years as man's days, 6 That thou en­quirest af­ter mine in­iq­ui­ty, and search­est af­ter my sin? 7 Thou know­est that I am not wicked; and there is none that can de­liv­er out of thine hand. 8 Thine hands have made me and fash­ioned me to­geth­er round about; yet thou dost de­stroy me. 9 Re­mem­ber, I be­seech thee, that thou hast made me as the clay; and wilt thou bring me into dust again? 10 Hast thou not poured me out as milk, and cur­dled me like cheese? 11 Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and hast fenced me with bones and sinews. 12 Thou hast grant­ed me life and favour, and thy vis­i­ta­tion hath pre­served my spir­it. 13 And these things hast thou hid in thine heart: I know that this is with thee. 14 If I sin, then thou mark­est me, and thou wilt not ac­quit me from mine in­iq­ui­ty. 15 If I be wicked, woe unto me; and if I be righ­teous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of con­fu­sion; there­fore see thou mine af­flic­tion; 16 For it in­creaseth. Thou huntest me as a fierce li­on: and again thou shewest thy­self mar­vel­lous upon me. 17 Thou re­newest thy wit­ness­es against me, and in­creas­est thine in­dig­na­tion upon me; changes and war are against me. 18 Where­fore then hast thou brought me forth out of the womb? Oh that I had giv­en up the ghost, and no eye had seen me! 19 I should have been as though I had not been; I should have been car­ried from the womb to the grave. 20 Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take com­fort a lit­tle, 21 Be­fore I go whence I shall not re­turn, even to the land of dark­ness and the shad­ow of death; 22 A land of dark­ness, as dark­ness it­self; and of the shad­ow of death, with­out any or­der, and where the light is as dark­ness.