Why must you persecute me the way God does? Haven't you tormented me enough?
How I wish that someone would remember my words and record them in a book!
Or with a chisel carve my words in stone and write them so that they would last forever.
But I know there is someone in heaven who will come at last to my defense.
Even after my skin is eaten by disease, while still in this body I will see God.
I will see him with my own eyes, and he will not be a stranger. My courage failed because you said,
"How can we torment him?" You looked for some excuse to attack me.
But now, be afraid of the sword - the sword that brings God's wrath on sin, so that you will know there is one who judges.