If they had not been there, I would be lying dead in peace; I would be asleep and at rest with kings and wise men of the earth who built places for themselves that are now ruined. I would be asleep with rulers who filled their houses with gold and silver. Why was I not buried like a child born dead, like a baby who never saw the light of day? In the grave the wicked stop making trouble, and the weary workers are at rest. In the grave there is rest for the captives who no longer hear the shout of the slave driver. People great and small are in the grave, and the slave is freed from his master. “Why is light given to those in misery? Why is life given to those who are so unhappy? They want to die, but death does not come. They search for death more than for hidden treasure. They are very happy when they get to the grave. They cannot see where they are going. God has hidden the road ahead. I make sad sounds as I eat; my groans pour out like water. Everything I feared and dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace or quietness. I have no rest, only trouble.”
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