Job 6:8
O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
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9That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
10And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.
11What `is' my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?
35Who giveth to me a hearing? lo, my mark. The Mighty One doth answer me, And a bill hath mine adversary written.
36If not -- on my shoulder I take it up, I bind it a crown on myself.
3O that I had known -- and I find Him, I come in unto His seat,
4I arrange before Him the cause, And my mouth fill `with' arguments.
5I know the words He doth answer me, And understand what He saith to me.
6In the abundance of power doth He strive with me? No! surely He putteth `it' in me.
7There the upright doth reason with Him, And I escape for ever from my judge.
23Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
2O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!
3For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.
4For arrows of the Mighty `are' with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves `for' me!
7My soul is refusing to touch! They `are' as my sickening food.
9Lord, before Thee `is' all my desire, And my sighing from Thee hath not been hid.
21And he reasoneth for a man with God, And a son of man for his friend.
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
13O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
8Yet I -- I inquire for God, And for God I give my word,
20Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
2Who doth make me as `in' months past, As `in' the days of God's preserving me?
7Two things I have asked from Thee, Withhold not from me before I die.
6And I say, `Who doth give to me a pinion as a dove? I fly away and rest,
15And my soul chooseth strangling, Death rather than my bones.
16I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days `are' vanity.
5And yet, O that God had spoken! And doth open His lips with thee.
36My Father! let Job be tried -- unto victory, Because of answers for men of iniquity,
13Look from me, and I brighten up before I go and am not!
22Come in doth all their evil before Thee, And one is doing to them as Thou hast done to me, For all my transgressions, For many `are' my sighs, and my heart `is' sick!
6If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
21Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me.
3And now, O Jehovah, take, I pray Thee, my soul from me, for better `is' my death than my life.'
13Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
5O that my ways were prepared to keep Thy statutes,
3Yet I for the Mighty One do speak, And to argue for God I delight.
24For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters `are' my roarings.
8Unto Thee, O Jehovah, I call, And unto Jehovah I make supplication.
1Who doth make my head waters, And mine eye a fountain of tears? And I weep by day and by night, For the wounded of the daughter of my people.
22My shoulder from its blade let fall, And mine arm from the bone be broken.
8Also when I call and cry out, He hath shut out my prayer.
2Favour me, O Jehovah, for I `am' weak, Heal me, O Jehovah, For troubled have been my bones,
3And my soul hath been troubled greatly, And Thou, O Jehovah, till when?
18And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
1My spirit hath been destroyed, My days extinguished -- graves `are' for me.
20Broken hath my soul for desire Unto Thy judgments at all times.
6I -- I called Thee, for Thou dost answer me, O God, incline Thine ear to me, hear my speech.
17For I am ready to halt, And my pain `is' before me continually.
19Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
9Favour me, O Jehovah, for distress `is' to me, Mine eye, my soul, and my body Have become old by provocation.