Then answered Sophar the Naamathite, and sayde:

Shulde not he that maketh many wordes, be answered? Shulde he that bableth moch, be commended therin?

Shulde men geue eare vnto the only? Thou wilt laugh other men to scorne, & shal no body mocke the agayne?

Wilt thou saye vnto God: The thinge that I take in honde, is perfecte, & I am clene in thy sight?

O that God wolde speake, and open his lippes agaynst the,

that he might shewe the (out of his secrete wy?dome) how manyfolde his lawe is: then shuldest thou knowe, that God had forgotten the, because of thy synnes.

Wilt thou fynde out God with thy sekynge? wilt thou attayne to the perfectnesse of the Allmightie?

He is hyer the heaue, what wilt thou do? Deper the hell, how wilt thou then knowe him?

His length exceadeth the length of the earth, and his bredth ye bredth of the see.

Though he turne all thinges vpsyde downe, close them in, or thrust the together, who darre check him therfore?

For it is he, that knoweth the vanite of men: he seyth their wickednesse also, shulde he not then considre it?

A vayne body exalteth him self, and the sonne of man is like a wylde asses foale.

Yf thou haddest now a right herte, & liftest vp thine hondes towarde him:

yf thou woldest put awaye the wickednesse, which thou hast in honde, so that no vngodlynesse dwelt in thy house:

Then mightest thou lift vp thy face without shame, the shuldest thou be sure, and haue no nede to feare.

Then shuldest thou forget thy misery, and thynke nomore vpon it, then vpon the waters that runne by.

Then shulde thy life be as cleare as the noone daye, and sprynge forth as the mornynge.

Then mightest thou haue comforth, in the hope that thou hast: & slepe quyetly, when thou art buried.

Then shuldest thou take thy rest, and no ma to make the afrayed, yee many one shulde set moch by the.

As for the eyes of the vngodly, they shal be consumed, and not escape: their hope shalbe misery and sorow of mynde.