Why do you pursue me as God? And with my flesh are not satisfied?
Who doth grant now, That my words may be written? Who doth grant that in a book they may be graven?
With a pen of iron and lead -- For ever in a rock they may be hewn.
That -- I have known my Redeemer, The Living and the Last, For the dust he doth rise.
And after my skin hath compassed this [body], Then from my flesh I see God:
Whom I -- I see on my side, And mine eyes have beheld, and not a stranger, Consumed have been my reins in my bosom.
But ye say, `Why do we pursue after him?' And the root of the matter hath been found in me.
Be ye afraid because of the sword, For furious [are] the punishments of the sword, That ye may know that [there is] a judgment.