My soul is weary of my life,
And ceaseth not in bitterness to mourn;
And all the weariness and strife
Of my complaint, do on myself return.
But unto God alone I will appeal,
And say—why dost Thou thus condemn me still?
Why dost thou still contend
With that Thine Hand hath made, and still oppress?
Why doth Thy Light descend
Upon the counsellings of wickedness?
If to despise Thine own seem good to Thee,
The cause of all these things I fain would see.
Dost Thou as man behold?
As eye of flesh is thine all-seeing eye?
And can thy years be told,
As days and months of man's mortality,
That Thou my sin would'st search out and descry,
And dost enquire for mine iniquity?
My heart to Thee is known,
And that no impious thought is hidden there;
Out of Thine Hand can none
Deliver, yet Thine own Thou dost not spare.
Thine Hands have fashioned this mortal frame,
Together and complete from Thee it came.
I do beseech thee, then,
Remember Thou as clay hast formed me,
And brought to dust again
And nothingness, wilt Thou that I should be?
As milk pour'd out, Thou hast my life-springs shed,
As cheese is curdled, so their course is stay'd.
It is by Thee I stand
Covered with flesh, and clad with skin around;
And thine Almighty Hand,
With bones hath fenc'd me, and with sinews bound.
Thy visitation hath preserv'd my soul—
Thy granted life and favour crown'd the whole.
And all these things, I know,
Are hidden within Thine Heart, and with Thee dwell;
Whilst unto me is woe,
If I do sin against Thee and rebel.
If I be wicked, then Thou markest me,
Nor wilt acquit me of iniquity.
And were I righteous, still
Not unto Thee would I lift up mine head,
Whilst I am thus, the while,
Fill'd with confusion and dismay'd with dread.
Look Thou on mine afflictions manifold,
And let Thine eyes mine added griefs behold.
For as a man pursued
By a fierce lion, am I hunted down;—
By witnesses, renew'd
Against me, Thine increased wrath is shown
Whilst still Thy marvels ever meet mine eyes,
And war and change against me ceaseless rise.
Why hast Thou brought me forth?
And wherefore was I rais'd to life and light?
Oh! would that at my birth,
Borne to the grave and hidden out of sight,
I had giv'n up the ghost and pass'd unseen,
And only been as though I had not been.
My days, are they not few?
Oh! leave me then, and for a time refrain
Thy chastenings to renew;
That yet some comfort I may take again—
And for a little time may cease to mourn
Before I go whence I shall not return.
Ev'n to the Land of Death,
All dark as Darkness' self, and blackest night.
Death's shadow covereth
That Land, and darkness is its only light.
Order and Beauty there are all unknown,
And Death's dark shadow reigneth there alone.