Job 6:9
That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!
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8O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!
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?
22My shoulder from its blade let fall, And mine arm from the bone be broken.
23For a dread unto me `is' calamity `from' God, And because of His excellency I am not able.
10Turn aside from off me Thy stroke, From the striving of Thy hand I have been consumed.
20Are not my days few? Cease then, and put from me, And I brighten up a little,
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.
13Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
14Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15Lo, He doth slay me -- I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.
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!
6Know now, that God turned me upside down, And His net against me hath set round,
3And now, O Jehovah, take, I pray Thee, my soul from me, for better `is' my death than my life.'
11My ways He is turning aside, and He pulleth me in pieces, He hath made me a desolation.
23Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
15and if thus Thou art doing to me -- slay me, I pray Thee; slay, if I have found grace in thine eyes, and let me not look on mine affliction.'
12At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.
34He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,
10He breaketh me down round about, and I go, And removeth like a tree my hope.
18And why from the womb Hast Thou brought me forth? I expire, and the eye doth not see me.
31Then in corruption Thou dost dip me, And my garments have abominated me.
13O that in Sheol Thou wouldst conceal me, Hide me till the turning of Thine anger, Set for me a limit, and remember me.
21Pity me, pity me, ye my friends, For the hand of God hath stricken against me.
3O that I had known -- and I find Him, I come in unto His seat,
19Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
23And, Deliver me from the hand of an adversary? And, From the hand of terrible ones ransom me?
13Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?
8Thy hands have taken pains about me, And they make me together round about, And Thou swallowest me up!
8Let me sow -- and another eat, And my products let be rooted out.
22It is the same thing, therefore I said, `The perfect and the wicked He is consuming.'
29If I rejoice at the ruin of my hater, And stirred up myself when evil found him,
8Dost thou also make void My judgment? Dost thou condemn Me, That thou mayest be righteous?
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.
18He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
21Thy hand put far off from me, And Thy terror let not terrify me.
5And yet, O that God had spoken! And doth open His lips with thee.
12My sojourning hath departed, And been removed from me as a shepherd's tent, I have drawn together, as a weaver, my life, By weakness it cutteth me off, From day unto night Thou dost end me.
13Be pleased, O Jehovah, to deliver me, O Jehovah, for my help make haste.
13Look from me, and I brighten up before I go and am not!
8Yet I -- I inquire for God, And for God I give my word,
18My refreshing for me `is' sorrow, For me my heart `is' sick.
35Who giveth to me a hearing? lo, my mark. The Mighty One doth answer me, And a bill hath mine adversary written.
22And it casteth at him, and doth not spare, From its hand he diligently fleeth.
36My Father! let Job be tried -- unto victory, Because of answers for men of iniquity,
12For a fire it `is', to destruction it consumeth, And among all mine increase doth take root,