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.