I would still dread all the pain, for I know you will not find me innocent, O God.
Whatever happens, I will be found guilty. So what’s the use of trying?
Even if I were to wash myself with soap and clean my hands with lye,
you would plunge me into a muddy ditch, and my own filthy clothing would hate me.
“God is not a mortal like me, so I cannot argue with him or take him to trial.
If only there were a mediator between us, someone who could bring us together.
The mediator could make God stop beating me, and I would no longer live in terror of his punishment.
Then I could speak to him without fear, but I cannot do that in my own strength.