But harsh reproof, and wisdom's words of rote,
To Job's far deeper need no solace brought;
And thus himself to justify he sought:—
Oh that my grief were rightly weigh'd,
And that my sore calamity
Were with it in the balance laid,—
Then would it heavier seem to be
Than sands, the ocean tides that bound,
And all too weak my words be found.
The arrows of the Almighty sink
Deep, deep, within my fainting soul;
Their poison doth my spirit drink;
Whilst o'er me as a flood do roll
His terrors, and around me stand,
In dark array, on every hand.
Hear'st thou the wild ass fretful cry
When he with grass is satisfied?
Or doth the ox low causelessly
When all his need is well supplied?
If mine again were ease and peace,
Like theirs would my complainings cease.
Unsavoury food man doth not choose;
The egg's clear white hath little taste;
But what my soul did once refuse,
Hath now become my sorrowing feast.
From me the salt of life is gone,
And that I loath'd is left alone.
Oh that my God would hear my prayer,
And grant my longing heart's request;
Ev'n that no more his hand would spare
The life whose strength and joy have ceas'd.
Comfort in hope I then should find,
And sorrow bear with firmer mind.
For what are days of added length,
That I should strive their course to hold?
Have I of stones the harden'd strength?
Or is my flesh of brazen mould?
Yet though no help in me is left,
Am I of wisdom quite bereft?
The man who pitieth not his friend
When in affliction drooping laid,
And scorneth whom he should defend,
From him the fear of God is fled;
Ev'n of the Holy One, whose word
My lips concealed not when I heard.
Like as the brook's deceitful stream,
My brethren's love is past and gone;
When dark with frost that brook did seem,
Or in a snow-robe pure it shone,
What eye that mark'd its course, could fear
Its depth to last, or strength to bear?
But Summer's fierce and scorching breath,
And its hot noon-tide sudden come;
The ice is gone—the streams beneath
All swiftly vanish and consume;
The traveller seeks their path in vain,—
They perish in the parched plain.
The troops of Tema eager came,
And waited Sheba's thirsting host,
Then turn'd them back again, with shame
For hope deceiv'd, and labour lost.
Thus I, like them, in vain did trust,
And thus have found you nought but dust.
Ye fear me, and reproach my pain,
Since ye have seen me lowly laid,
Yet nought from you I sought to gain,
Nor claim upon your substance made;
Nor asked for ransom from your store,
Nor rescue from the Foe-man's power.
Teach me, and I will hold my peace,
For powerful is the fitting word—
Beneath its force mine own shall cease,
When you can show where I have err'd.
But ye, by arguing, strive in vain,
To prove me false when I complain.
To note the words of bitterness,
And weigh the ravings of despair,
Is to o'erwhelm the Fatherless,
And for your Friend a pit prepare.
A judgment just and spirit kind,
Would deem such speech as empty wind.
Then be content to turn your eyes
On what I am beneath your view;
A single glance might well suffice
To show me false, or prove me true.
My righteousness I hold too dear,
Reproach and doubt like yours to bear.
I pray you, turn and pity me,
And from your bitterness relent;
Nor charge to mine iniquity,
The weight of all this chastisement.
Can I not taste what savoureth ill?
And things perverse distinguish still?