Shall not they teach thee, and tell thee,
And utter words out of their heart?
Can the rush grow up without mire?
Can the flag grow without water?
Whilst it is yet in his

greenness,

and not cut down, It withereth before any other herb. So are the paths of all that forget God; And the hypocrite's hope shall perish: Whose hope shall be cut off, And whose trust shall be a spider's web. He shall lean

upon his house, but it shall not stand: He shall hold it fast, but it shall not endure. He is green before the sun, And his branch shooteth forth in his garden. His roots are wrapped about the heap, And seeth the place of stones. If he destroy him from his place, Then it shall deny him, saying, I have not seen thee. Behold, this is the joy of his way, And out of the earth shall others grow. Behold, God will not cast away a perfect man, Neither will he help the evil doers: Till he fill thy mouth with laughing, And thy lips with rejoicing. They that hate thee shall be clothed with shame; And the dwelling place of the wicked shall come to

nought.

Then Job answered and said,

I Know it is so of a truth:
But how should man be just with God?
If he will contend with him,
He cannot answer him one of a thousand.
He is wise in heart, and mighty in strength:
Who hath hardened himself against him, and hath

prospered? Which removeth the mountains, and they know

not:

Which overturneth them in his anger.
Which shaketh the earth out of her place,
And the pillars thereof tremble.
Which commandeth the sun, and it riseth not;
And sealeth

up

the stars. Which alone spreadeth out the heavens, And treadeth upon the waves of the sea. Which maketh Arcturus, Orion, and Pleiades, And the chambers of the south. Which doeth great things past finding out; Yea, and wonders without number. Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not: He passeth on also, but I perceive him not. Behold, he taketh away,

who can hinder him? Who will say unto him, What doest thou? If God will not withdraw his anger, The proud helpers do stoop under him.

How much less shall I answer him,
And choose out my words to reason with him?
Whom, though I were righteous, yet would I not

answer, But I would make supplication to my judge. If I had called, and he had answered me; Yet would I not believe that he had hearkened unto my

voice. For he breaketh me with a tempest, And multiplieth my wounds without cause. He will not suffer me to take my breath, But filleth me with bitterness. If I speak of strength, lo, he is strong: And if of judgment, who shall set me a time to plead? If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn

me:

If I say, I am perfect, it shall also prove me perverse.
Though I were perfect, yet would I not know my

soul:
I would despise my life.
This is one thing, therefore I said it,
He destroyeth the perfect and the wicked.
If the scourge slay suddenly,
He will laugh at the trial of the innocent.
The earth is given into the hand of the wicked:
He covereth the faces of the judges thereof;
If not, where, and who is he?
Now my days are swifter than a post:

JOB They flee away, they see no good. They are passed away as the swift ships: As the eagle that hasteth to the prey. If I say, I will forget my complaint, I will leave off my heaviness, and comfort myself: I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that thou wilt not hold me innocent. If I be wicked, why then labour I in vain? If I wash myself with snow water, And make

my

hands never so clean;
Yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch,
And mine own clothes shall abhor me.
For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer

him,
And we should come together in judgment.
Neither is there any daysman betwixt us,
That might lay his hand upon us both.
Let him take his rod away from me,
And let not his fear terrify me:
Then would I speak, and not fear him;
But it is not so with me.

My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my com

plaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul. I will say unto God, Do not condemn me; Shew me wherefore thou contendest with me. Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress,

That thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands,
And shine upon the counsel of the wicked?
Hast thou eyes of flesh?
Or seest thou as man seeth?
Are thy days as the days of man?
Are thy years as man's days,
That thou enquirest after mine iniquity,
And searchest after my sin?
Thou knowest that I am not wicked;
And there is none that can deliver out of thine hand.
Thine hands have made me and fashioned me to-

gether round about; Yet thou dost destroy me. Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast made me

as the clay; And wilt thou bring me into dust again? Hast thou not poured me out as milk, And curdled me like cheese? Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, And hast fenced me with bones and sinews. Thou hast granted me life and favour, And thy visitation hath preserved my spirit. And these things hast thou hid in thine heart: I know that this is with thee. If I sin, then thou markest me, And thou wilt not acquit me from mine iniquity. If I be wicked, woe unto me;