I've made a covenant with my eyes; how could I look at a virgin?
What is God's portion for me from above, the Almighty's inheritance from on high?
Isn't it disaster for the wicked, destruction for workers of iniquity?
Doesn't he see my ways, count all my steps?
If I have walked with frauds or my feet have hurried to deceit,
let him weigh me on accurate scales; let God know my integrity.
If my step has turned from the way, if my heart has followed my eyes or a blemish has clung to my hands,
then let me sow and another reap; let my offspring be uprooted.
If my heart has been drawn to a woman and I have lurked at my neighbor's door,
then may my wife grind for another and others kneel over her;
for that's a crime; it's a punishable offense;
indeed, it's a fire that consumes to the underworld, uprooting all my harvest.
If I've rejected the just cause of my male or female servant when they contended with me,
what could I do when God rises; when he requires an account, what could I answer?
Didn't the one who made me in the belly make them; didn't the same one fashion us in the womb?
If I have denied what the poor wanted, made a widow's eyes tired,
eaten my morsel alone, and not shared any with an orphan
(for from my youth I raised the orphan as a father, and from my mother's womb I led the widow);
if I ever saw someone dying without clothes, the needy naked;
if they haven't blessed me fervently, or if they weren't warmed by the wool from my sheep;
if I have lifted my hand against the orphans, when I saw that I had help in the city gate—
may my arm fall from my shoulder, my forearm be broken at the elbow—
for God's calamity is terror to me; I couldn't endure his splendor.
If I've made gold my trust, said to fine gold: "My security!"
if I've rejoiced because my wealth was great, when my hand found plenty;
if I've looked at the sun when it shone, the moon, splendid as it moved;
and my mind has been secretly enticed, and threw a kiss with my hand,
that also is a punishable offense, because I would then be disloyal to God above.
If I have rejoiced over my foes' ruin or was excited when evil found them,
I didn't let my mouth sin by asking for their life with a curse.
Surely those in my tent never said: "Who has been filled by Job's food?"
A stranger didn't spend the night in the street; I opened my doors to the road.
If I have hidden my transgressions like Adam, concealing my offenses inside me
because I feared the large crowd; the clan's contempt frightened me; I was quiet and didn't venture outside.
Oh, that I had someone to hear me! Here's my signature; let the Almighty respond, and let my accuser write an indictment.
Surely I would bear it on my shoulder, tie it around me like a wreath.
I would give him an account of my steps, approach him like a prince.
If my land has cried out against me, its rows wept together;
if I have eaten its yield without payment and caused its owners grief,
may briars grow instead of wheat, poisonous weeds instead of barley. Job's words are complete.