Job 31
Job’s Final Protest of Innocence
or
That is All
based on Job 31
here is my signature
Job 31:35
Job 31:35
I have promised that both of my eyes keep my oath
to not lust as young virgins pass by.
For then what is our lot God in heaven has wrought?
What's our share from Almighty on high?
Is not ruin the end for degenerate men,
and disaster their wages for sin?
Does he not see my ways spent consuming my days?
Counting footsteps, he knows where I've been.
If I walked in a lie, falsely spoke in reply,
if I ran toward deception and fraud;
I would not be afraid to be honestly weighed —
I'd be pure on the scales of my God.
If my footsteps have strayed, if my heart was betrayed,
if my eyes and my hands were corrupt;
let them take what I've sown, let them eat what I've grown,
let the crops of my field be torn up.
If I fell to the charms of a strange woman's arms,
or I lurked at my neighbor's back door,
let my own wife behave as another man's slave,
and become still to others a whore.
Whether chance or design — it's so heinous a crime
that the judges would punish my shame.
Such illicit desire would consume me with fire;
all I've done would be lost in that flame.
If I'd ever malign any servants of mine
when they had accusations to mount,
how could I ever face God to judge in my case?
Could I answer when called to account?
Did he not oversee both my servants and me
when he formed us alike in the womb?
Have I ever refused both the poor and abused;
turned the hopes of the widow to gloom?
Hoarding food on my shelf to feed only myself,
and not giving the orphans a share?
No, from youth orphans saw I was father to all,
and since birth, I've shown widows I care.
Though men perish for lack of warm clothes on their back
and the needy have no warmth for sleep,
was I not thanked and blessed for the way they were dressed,
staying warm from the fleece of my sheep?
If I lifted my arm to the orphan’s alarm,
knowing judges would not disappoint,
let that limb be removed from the shoulder blade’s groove,
let my elbow be snapped at the joint.
That's a much better path than to suffer God's wrath,
for his splendor I cannot endure.
I have not placed in gold the assurance I hold,
nor my trust in that gold that is pure.
Have I gleefully shown you the wealth that I own,
and the fortunes that my hands have made?
If I squinted my eyes at the sun in the skies,
or the glorious moon there displayed,
if I'd feel my heart melt for the worship I felt,
and threw both of them kisses of love —
for these sins I could see judges punishing me,
for I would have denied God above.
Have I ever been glad when my foe’s plans went bad,
or rejoiced when their troubles got worse?
I would sin if I said that I wished they were dead,
or had prayed that their lives held a curse.
If my men servants spoke after bread had been broke,
they'd say, Who here can eat anymore?
Every stranger I’d meet never slept in the street;
to the traveler I'd open my door.
If my sin remained hid just as Adam once did,
then the guilt in my heart would I hide;
fearing those I might face or a public disgrace,
I kept still and would not go outside.
Oh, if someone would hark! I have signed with my mark.
Let my charges be all written down!
I would carry it there on my shoulder to wear;
it would proudly be worn as a crown.
I would note in a book every step that I took;
like a prince, I'd approach him with pride.
If I've misused the land that I've farmed with my hand,
and the furrows together have cried;
if I've eaten the yield from another man's field,
shown contempt for the true owners' needs;
let the briers then grow — not the wheat — in the row,
and in lieu of the barley, reap weeds.
to not lust as young virgins pass by.
For then what is our lot God in heaven has wrought?
What's our share from Almighty on high?
Is not ruin the end for degenerate men,
and disaster their wages for sin?
Does he not see my ways spent consuming my days?
Counting footsteps, he knows where I've been.
If I walked in a lie, falsely spoke in reply,
if I ran toward deception and fraud;
I would not be afraid to be honestly weighed —
I'd be pure on the scales of my God.
If my footsteps have strayed, if my heart was betrayed,
if my eyes and my hands were corrupt;
let them take what I've sown, let them eat what I've grown,
let the crops of my field be torn up.
If I fell to the charms of a strange woman's arms,
or I lurked at my neighbor's back door,
let my own wife behave as another man's slave,
and become still to others a whore.
Whether chance or design — it's so heinous a crime
that the judges would punish my shame.
Such illicit desire would consume me with fire;
all I've done would be lost in that flame.
If I'd ever malign any servants of mine
when they had accusations to mount,
how could I ever face God to judge in my case?
Could I answer when called to account?
Did he not oversee both my servants and me
when he formed us alike in the womb?
Have I ever refused both the poor and abused;
turned the hopes of the widow to gloom?
Hoarding food on my shelf to feed only myself,
and not giving the orphans a share?
No, from youth orphans saw I was father to all,
and since birth, I've shown widows I care.
Though men perish for lack of warm clothes on their back
and the needy have no warmth for sleep,
was I not thanked and blessed for the way they were dressed,
staying warm from the fleece of my sheep?
If I lifted my arm to the orphan’s alarm,
knowing judges would not disappoint,
let that limb be removed from the shoulder blade’s groove,
let my elbow be snapped at the joint.
That's a much better path than to suffer God's wrath,
for his splendor I cannot endure.
I have not placed in gold the assurance I hold,
nor my trust in that gold that is pure.
Have I gleefully shown you the wealth that I own,
and the fortunes that my hands have made?
If I squinted my eyes at the sun in the skies,
or the glorious moon there displayed,
if I'd feel my heart melt for the worship I felt,
and threw both of them kisses of love —
for these sins I could see judges punishing me,
for I would have denied God above.
Have I ever been glad when my foe’s plans went bad,
or rejoiced when their troubles got worse?
I would sin if I said that I wished they were dead,
or had prayed that their lives held a curse.
If my men servants spoke after bread had been broke,
they'd say, Who here can eat anymore?
Every stranger I’d meet never slept in the street;
to the traveler I'd open my door.
If my sin remained hid just as Adam once did,
then the guilt in my heart would I hide;
fearing those I might face or a public disgrace,
I kept still and would not go outside.
Oh, if someone would hark! I have signed with my mark.
Let my charges be all written down!
I would carry it there on my shoulder to wear;
it would proudly be worn as a crown.
I would note in a book every step that I took;
like a prince, I'd approach him with pride.
If I've misused the land that I've farmed with my hand,
and the furrows together have cried;
if I've eaten the yield from another man's field,
shown contempt for the true owners' needs;
let the briers then grow — not the wheat — in the row,
and in lieu of the barley, reap weeds.
Job's words are ended.
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