Then Iyov answered,
"Truly I know that it is so, But how can man be just with God?
If he is pleased to contend with him, He can't answer him one time in a thousand.
God who is wise in heart, and mighty in strength: Who has hardened himself against him, and prospered?
Who removes the mountains, and they don't know it, When he overturns them in his anger
Who shakes the eretz out of its place; The pillars of it tremble;
Who commands the sun, and it doesn't rise, And seals up the stars;
Who alone stretches out the heavens, Treads on the waves of the sea;
Who makes Ayish, Kesil, and the Kima, And the chambers of the south;
Who does great things past finding out, Yes, marvelous things without number.
Behold, he goes by me, and I don't see him. He passes on also, but I don't perceive him.
Behold, he snatches away; who can hinder him? Who will ask him, 'What are you doing?'
"God will not withdraw his anger; The helpers of Rachav stoop under him.
How much less shall I answer him, Choose my words to argue with him?
Whom, though I were righteous, yet would I not answer. I would make supplication to my judge.
If I had called, and he had answered me, Yet would I not believe that he listened to my voice.
For he breaks me with a tempest, Multiplies my wounds without cause.
He will not allow me to take my breath, But fills me with bitterness.
If it is a matter of strength, behold, he is mighty! If of justice, 'Who,' says he, 'will summon me?'
Though I am righteous, my own mouth shall condemn me. Though I am blameless, it shall prove me perverse.
I am blameless. I don't regard myself. I despise my life.
"It is all the same. Therefore I say, He destroys the blameless and the wicked.
If the scourge kills suddenly, He will mock at the trial of the innocent.
The eretz is given into the hand of the wicked. He covers the faces of the judges of it. If not he, then who is it?
"Now my days are swifter than a runner. They flee away, they see no good,
They have passed away as the swift ships, As the eagle that swoops on the prey.
If I say, 'I will forget my complaint, I will put off my sad face, and cheer up;'
I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that you will not hold me innocent.
I shall be condemned; Why then do I labor in vain?
If I wash myself with snow, And cleanse my hands with lye,
Yet you will plunge me in the ditch. My own clothes shall abhor me.
For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, That we should come together in judgment.
There is no umpire between us, That might lay his hand on us both.
Let him take his rod away from me, Let his terror not make me afraid:
Then I would speak, and not fear him, For I am not so in myself.