Job 17

¹ My spirit is broken, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.

² Surely there is mockery with me, and mine eye dwelleth on their provocation.

³ Give me, O God, the pledge you demand of me; yea, what shall be given me of God besides you?

⁴ Will you not look upon me? and are not my days few?

⁵ O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.

⁶ The eye of him that sees me shall see me no more: your eyes are upon me, and I am not.

⁷ As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goes down to the grave shall come up no more.

⁸ He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

⁹ Therefore I will not keep silence, I will speak, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.

¹⁰ I will say to God, Do not condemn me; shew me wherefore you contend with me.

¹¹ Is it good unto you that you should oppress, that you should despise the work of your hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?

¹² Hast thou eyes of flesh? or see you as man sees?

¹³ Are thy days as the days of man? are thy years as man’s days,

¹⁴ That you enquire after mine iniquity, and search after my sin?

¹⁵ And thou knowest that I am not wicked; and there is none that can deliver out of thine hand.

¹⁶ Thine hands have made me and fashioned me together round about; yet you dost destroy me.