‘Your hands fashioned and made me altogether, And would You destroy me? Remember now, that You have made me as clay; And would You turn me into dust again? Did You not pour me out like milk And curdle me like cheese; Clothe me with skin and flesh, And knit me together with bones and sinews? You have granted me life and lovingkindness; And Your care has preserved my spirit. Yet these things You have concealed in Your heart; I know that this is within You: If I sin, then You would take note of me, And would not acquit me of my guilt. If I am wicked, woe to me! And if I am righteous, I dare not lift up my head. I am sated with disgrace and conscious of my misery. Should my head be lifted up, You would hunt me like a lion; And again You would show Your power against me. You renew Your witnesses against me And increase Your anger toward me; Hardship after hardship is with me. ‘Why then have You brought me out of the womb? Would that I had died and no eye had seen me! I should have been as though I had not been, Carried from womb to tomb.’ Would He not let my few days alone? Withdraw from me that I may have a little cheer Before I go—and I shall not return— To the land of darkness and deep shadow, The land of utter gloom as darkness itself, Of deep shadow without order, And which shines as the darkness.”
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