Why do you persecute me as God, and glut yourselves with my flesh?
Who will grant me that my words may be written? who will grant me that they may be marked down in a book?
With an iron pen and in a plate of lead, or else be graven with an instrument in flint stone?
For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and in the last day I shall rise out of the earth.
And I shall be clothed again with my skin, and in my flesh I shall see my God.
Whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold, and not another: this my hope is laid up in my bosom.
Why then do you say now: Let us persecute him, and let us find occasion of word against him?
Flee then from the face of the sword, for the sword is the revenger of iniquities: and know ye that there is a judgment.