Bear with me, and let me speak. After I have spoken, you may resume mocking me.
“My complaint is with God, not with people. I have good reason to be so impatient.
Look at me and be stunned. Put your hand over your mouth in shock.
When I think about what I am saying, I shudder. My body trembles.
“Why do the wicked prosper, growing old and powerful?
They live to see their children grow up and settle down, and they enjoy their grandchildren.
Their homes are safe from every fear, and God does not punish them.
Their bulls never fail to breed. Their cows bear calves and never miscarry.
They let their children frisk about like lambs. Their little ones skip and dance.
They sing with tambourine and harp. They celebrate to the sound of the flute.
They spend their days in prosperity, then go down to the grave in peace.