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Then Job spoke again:
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“My complaint today is still a bitter one,
and I try hard not to groan aloud.
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If only I knew where to find God,
I would go to his court.
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I would lay out my case
and present my arguments.
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Then I would listen to his reply
and understand what he says to me.
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Would he use his great power to argue with me?
No, he would give me a fair hearing.
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Honest people can reason with him,
so I would be forever acquitted by my judge.
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I go east, but he is not there.
I go west, but I cannot find him.
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I do not see him in the north, for he is hidden.
I look to the south, but he is concealed.
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“But he knows where I am going.
And when he tests me, I will come out as pure as gold.
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For I have stayed on God’s paths;
I have followed his ways and not turned aside.
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I have not departed from his commands,
but have treasured his words more than daily food.
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But once he has made his decision, who can change his mind?
Whatever he wants to do, he does.
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So he will do to me whatever he has planned.
He controls my destiny.
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No wonder I am so terrified in his presence.
When I think of it, terror grips me.
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God has made me sick at heart;
the Almighty has terrified me.
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Darkness is all around me;
thick, impenetrable darkness is everywhere.
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“Why doesn’t the Almighty bring the wicked to judgment?
Why must the godly wait for him in vain?
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Evil people steal land by moving the boundary markers.
They steal livestock and put them in their own pastures.
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They take the orphan’s donkey
and demand the widow’s ox as security for a loan.
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The poor are pushed off the path;
the needy must hide together for safety.
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Like wild donkeys in the wilderness,
the poor must spend all their time looking for food,
searching even in the desert for food for their children.
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They harvest a field they do not own,
and they glean in the vineyards of the wicked.
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All night they lie naked in the cold,
without clothing or covering.
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They are soaked by mountain showers,
and they huddle against the rocks for want of a home.
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“The wicked snatch a widow’s child from her breast,
taking the baby as security for a loan.
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The poor must go about naked, without any clothing.
They harvest food for others while they themselves are starving.
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They press out olive oil without being allowed to taste it,
and they tread in the winepress as they suffer from thirst.
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The groans of the dying rise from the city,
and the wounded cry for help,
yet God ignores their moaning.
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“Wicked people rebel against the light.
They refuse to acknowledge its ways
or stay in its paths.
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The murderer rises in the early dawn
to kill the poor and needy;
at night he is a thief.
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The adulterer waits for the twilight,
saying, ‘No one will see me then.’
He hides his face so no one will know him.
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Thieves break into houses at night
and sleep in the daytime.
They are not acquainted with the light.
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The black night is their morning.
They ally themselves with the terrors of the darkness.
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“But they disappear like foam down a river.
Everything they own is cursed,
and they are afraid to enter their own vineyards.
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The grave 1 consumes sinners
just as drought and heat consume snow.
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Their own mothers will forget them.
Maggots will find them sweet to eat.
No one will remember them.
Wicked people are broken like a tree in the storm.
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They cheat the woman who has no son to help her.
They refuse to help the needy widow.
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“God, in his power, drags away the rich.
They may rise high, but they have no assurance of life.
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They may be allowed to live in security,
but God is always watching them.
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And though they are great now,
in a moment they will be gone like all others,
cut off like heads of grain.
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Can anyone claim otherwise?
Who can prove me wrong?”