Job 16
Job's Fifth Speech: A Response to Eliphaz
or
Les Miserables
based on Job 16
what miserable comforters you are
Job 16:2
Job 16:2
Then Job spoke again:
I've heard all this before and can't take anymore;
there's no sorrier comfort than you!
Will you not stem the flow of this hot air you blow?
What compels you to talk like you do?
If I stood in your place I could give to your face
my fine speeches and shakes of my head.
But, I'd offer relief to your obvious grief;
I'd console and encourage instead.
If I speak, both my pain and my grieving remain,
if I'm silent, they do not allay.
Oh, my God! I’m worn out — you’ve destroyed me, no doubt;
you have taken my family away.
As if proof of my sin you've reduced me to skin
over bones — my gaunt flesh testifies.
In your wrath I am thrashed, by your teeth I am gnashed;
as your enemy, pierced with your eyes.
I am jeered in disgrace, have been slapped in the face;
I'm surrounded by hate, all alone.
God's delivered me, then, to the vilest of men;
into hands of the wicked I'm thrown.
I was living in ease but then suddenly seized
and he's shaken my good life apart.
By the scruff of my neck he has made me a wreck;
put a bulls-eye here over my heart.
Now, his archers are fierce and my body is pierced,
and the ground's slick with blood and entrails.
My defenses are breached and my soul has been reached;
he's a warrior that ever assails.
And my sackcloth is worn and I've buried my horn
with my pride and my strength in the dust.
Eyes are reddened from tears from dark shadows and fears,
and my face is disfigured and flushed.
I've been wronged, don't you see? There's no violence in me;
and my prayer has forever been pure.
Do not cover my blood, earth, concealed by your mud;
let its crying for justice endure.
Now, what I'm thinking of is my witness above,
he who testifies for me on high.
Scorned and mocked to no end by those thought to be friends,
but to God will I break down and cry.
Oh, to find one who'd plead, before God intercede,
as a man between neighbors' concerns.
For my last journey nears — whether days, months or years,
down that road which I'll never return.
there's no sorrier comfort than you!
Will you not stem the flow of this hot air you blow?
What compels you to talk like you do?
If I stood in your place I could give to your face
my fine speeches and shakes of my head.
But, I'd offer relief to your obvious grief;
I'd console and encourage instead.
If I speak, both my pain and my grieving remain,
if I'm silent, they do not allay.
Oh, my God! I’m worn out — you’ve destroyed me, no doubt;
you have taken my family away.
As if proof of my sin you've reduced me to skin
over bones — my gaunt flesh testifies.
In your wrath I am thrashed, by your teeth I am gnashed;
as your enemy, pierced with your eyes.
I am jeered in disgrace, have been slapped in the face;
I'm surrounded by hate, all alone.
God's delivered me, then, to the vilest of men;
into hands of the wicked I'm thrown.
I was living in ease but then suddenly seized
and he's shaken my good life apart.
By the scruff of my neck he has made me a wreck;
put a bulls-eye here over my heart.
Now, his archers are fierce and my body is pierced,
and the ground's slick with blood and entrails.
My defenses are breached and my soul has been reached;
he's a warrior that ever assails.
And my sackcloth is worn and I've buried my horn
with my pride and my strength in the dust.
Eyes are reddened from tears from dark shadows and fears,
and my face is disfigured and flushed.
I've been wronged, don't you see? There's no violence in me;
and my prayer has forever been pure.
Do not cover my blood, earth, concealed by your mud;
let its crying for justice endure.
Now, what I'm thinking of is my witness above,
he who testifies for me on high.
Scorned and mocked to no end by those thought to be friends,
but to God will I break down and cry.
Oh, to find one who'd plead, before God intercede,
as a man between neighbors' concerns.
For my last journey nears — whether days, months or years,
down that road which I'll never return.
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