Job: How Can I Contend with God?
And Job answered and said:
Truly I know that it is so. And how can a mortal be righteous with God?
If one desired to contend with him, he could not answer him one of a thousand.
Wise of heart and mighty in strength — who has hardened himself against him and remained whole?
Who moves mountains, and they do not know it, when he overturns them in his anger;
who shakes the earth from its place, and its pillars shudder;
who speaks to the sun, and it does not rise, and seals up the stars;
who alone stretches out the heavens, and treads on the high places of the Sea;
who made the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, and the chambers of the south;
who does great things beyond searching out, and wonders beyond number.
Look, he passes by me, and I do not see him; he moves on, and I do not perceive him.
Look, he snatches away — who can turn him back? Who will say to him, “What are you doing?”
God does not turn back his anger; beneath him the helpers of Rahab bowed down.
How much less should I answer him, choose my words with him?
For though I were righteous, I could not answer; I would plead with my accuser for mercy.
If I called and he answered me, I would not believe that he was listening to my voice —
he who crushes me with a tempest, and multiplies my wounds for nothing;
who does not let me get my breath back, but fills me with bitterness.
If it is a matter of strength — look, he is mighty. And if of judgment — who will summon me?
Though I were righteous, my own mouth would condemn me; though I were blameless, it would prove me crooked.
I am blameless. I do not know myself. I reject my life.
It is all one; therefore I say: the blameless and the wicked he brings to an end.
If a scourge kills suddenly, he mocks at the despair of the innocent.
The earth is given into the hand of the wicked; he covers the faces of its judges. If not — then who?
And my days are swifter than a runner; they flee away, they see no good.
They pass by like boats of reed, like an eagle swooping on food.
If I say, “I will forget my complaint; I will leave off my face and be cheerful,”
I dread all my pains; I know that you will not hold me innocent.
I shall be counted guilty — why then should I labor for a breath?
If I washed myself with snow-water, and cleansed my hands with lye,
then you would plunge me in the pit, and my own clothes would abhor me.
For he is not a man like me, that I should answer him, that we should come together in judgment.
There is no arbiter between us, who might set his hand on us both.
Let him take his rod away from me, and let his terror not dismay me;
then I would speak and not fear him — for I am not so in myself.