King James Version › Job › 13

Job

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1 Lo, mine eye hath seen all this, mine ear hath heard and un­der­stood it. 2 What ye know, the same do I know al­so: I am not in­fe­ri­or unto you. 3 Sure­ly I would speak to the Almighty, and I de­sire to rea­son with God. 4 But ye are forg­ers of lies, ye are all physi­cians of no val­ue. 5 O that ye would al­to­geth­er hold your peace! and it should be your wis­dom. 6 Hear now my rea­son­ing, and hear­ken to the plead­ings of my lips. 7 Will ye speak wicked­ly for God? and talk de­ceit­ful­ly for him? 8 Will ye ac­cept his per­son? will ye con­tend for God? 9 Is it good that he should search you out? or as one man mock­eth an­oth­er, do ye so mock him? 10 He will sure­ly re­prove you, if ye do se­cret­ly ac­cept per­sons. 11 Shall not his ex­cel­len­cy make you afraid? and his dread fall upon you? 12 Your re­mem­brances are like unto ash­es, your bod­ies to bod­ies of clay. 13 Hold your peace, let me alone, that I may speak, and let come on me what will. 14 Where­fore do I take my flesh in my teeth, and put my life in mine hand? 15 Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will main­tain mine own ways be­fore him. 16 He also shall be my sal­va­tion: for an hyp­ocrite shall not come be­fore him. 17 Hear dili­gent­ly my speech, and my dec­la­ra­tion with your ears. 18 Be­hold now, I have or­dered my cause; I know that I shall be jus­ti­fied. 19 Who is he that will plead with me? for now, if I hold my tongue, I shall give up the ghost. 20 Only do not two things unto me: then will I not hide my­self from thee. 21 With­draw thine hand far from me: and let not thy dread make me afraid. 22 Then call thou, and I will an­swer: or let me speak, and an­swer thou me. 23 How many are mine in­iq­ui­ties and sins? make me to know my trans­gres­sion and my sin. 24 Where­fore hidest thou thy face, and hold­est me for thine en­e­my? 25 Wilt thou break a leaf driv­en to and fro? and wilt thou pur­sue the dry stub­ble? 26 For thou writest bit­ter things against me, and mak­est me to pos­sess the in­iq­ui­ties of my youth. 27 Thou puttest my feet also in the stocks, and look­est nar­row­ly unto all my paths; thou settest a print upon the heels of my feet. 28 And he, as a rot­ten thing, con­sumeth, as a gar­ment that is moth eat­en.