Job 13

¹“Look, my eye has seen all this,

my ear has heard and understood it.

²What you know, I also know;

I am not inferior to you.

³But I would speak to the Almighty,

and I desire to argue my case with God.

⁴As for you, you whitewash with lies;

all of you are worthless physicians.

⁵If you would only keep silent,

that would be your wisdom!

⁶Hear now my reasoning,

and listen to the pleadings of my lips.

⁷Will you speak falsely for God,

and speak deceitfully for him?

⁸Will you show partiality toward him,

will you plead the case for God?

⁹Will it be well with you when he searches you out?

Or can you deceive him, as one person deceives another?

¹⁰He will surely rebuke you

if in secret you show partiality.

¹¹Will not his majesty terrify you,

and the dread of him fall upon you?

¹²Your maxims are proverbs of ashes,

your defenses are defenses of clay.

¹³“Let me have silence, and I will speak,

and let come on me what may.

¹⁴I will take my flesh in my teeth,

and put my life in my hand.

¹⁵See, he will kill me; I have no hope;

but I will defend my ways to his face.

¹⁶This will be my salvation,

that the godless shall not come before him.

¹⁷Listen carefully to my words,

and let my declaration be in your ears.

¹⁸I have indeed prepared my case;

I know that I shall be vindicated.

¹⁹Who is there that will contend with me?

For then I would be silent and die.

Job’s Despondent Prayer

²⁰Only grant two things to me,

then I will not hide myself from your face:

²¹withdraw your hand far from me,

and do not let dread of you terrify me.

²²Then call, and I will answer;

or let me speak, and you reply to me.

²³How many are my iniquities and my sins?

Make me know my transgression and my sin.

²⁴Why do you hide your face,

and count me as your enemy?

²⁵Will you frighten a windblown leaf

and pursue dry chaff?

²⁶For you write bitter things against me,

and make me reap the iniquities of my youth.

²⁷You put my feet in the stocks,

and watch all my paths;

you set a bound to the soles of my feet.

²⁸One wastes away like a rotten thing,

like a garment that is moth-eaten.