How long will you harass me and crush me with words?
These ten times you've humiliated me; shamelessly you insult me.
Have I really gone astray? If so, my error remains hidden inside me.
If you look down on me and use my disgrace to criticize me,
know then that God has wronged me and enclosed his net over me.
If I cry "Violence!" I'm not answered; I shout—but there is no justice.
He walled up my path so I can't pass and put darkness on my trail,
stripped my honor from me, removed the crown from my head,
tore me down completely so that I'll die, and uprooted my hope like a tree.
His anger burns against me; he considers me his enemy.
His troops come as one and construct their siege ramp against me; they camp around my tent.
He has distanced my family from me; my acquaintances are also alienated from me. those who know me have forgotten me. I'm a foreigner in their sight.
My visitors have ceased;
My guests and female servants think me a stranger;
I call my servant, and he doesn't answer; I myself must beg him.
My breath stinks to my wife; I am odious to my children.
Even the young despise me; I get up, and they rail against me.
All my closest friends despise me; the ones I have loved turn against me.
My bones cling to my skin and flesh; I have escaped by the skin of my teeth.
Pity me. Pity me. You're my friends. God's hand has truly struck me.
Why do you pursue me like God does, always hungry for my flesh?
Oh, that my words were written down, inscribed on a scroll
with an iron instrument and lead, forever engraved on stone.
But I know that my redeemer is alive and afterward he'll rise upon the dust.
After my skin has been torn apart this way— then from my flesh I'll see God,
whom I'll see myself— my eyes see, and not a stranger's. I am utterly dejected.
You say, "How will we pursue him so that the root of the matter can be found in him?"
You ought to fear the sword yourselves, for wrath brings punishment by the sword. You should know that there is judgment.