1 “I loathe my own life;
I will give full vent to my complaint;
I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
Let me know why You contend with me.
To reject the labor of Your hands,
And to look favorably on the schemes of the wicked?
Or do You see as a man sees?
Or Your years as man’s years,
And search after my sin?
Yet there is no deliverance from Your hand.
And would You destroy me?
And would You turn me into dust again?
And curdle me like cheese;
And knit me together with bones and sinews?
And Your care has preserved my spirit.
I know that this is within You:
And would not acquit me of my guilt.
And if I am righteous, I dare not lift up my head.
I am sated with disgrace and conscious of my misery.
And again You would show Your power against me.
And increase Your anger toward me;
Hardship after hardship is with me.
Would that I had died and no eye had seen me!
Carried from womb to tomb.’
Withdraw from me that I may have a little cheer
To the land of darkness and deep shadow,
Of deep shadow without order,
And which shines as the darkness.”