Job 3:11-23

Why died I not from the womb? Why did I not give up the ghost when my mother bare me? Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breasts, that I should suck? For now should I have lain down and been quiet; I should have slept; then had I been at rest, With kings and counsellors of the earth, Who built up waste places for themselves; Or with princes that had gold, Who filled their houses with silver: Or as a hidden untimely birth I had not been, As infants that never saw light. There the wicked cease from troubling; And there the weary are at rest. There the prisoners are at ease together; They hear not the voice of the taskmaster. The small and the great are there: And the servant is free from his master. Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, And life unto the bitter in soul; Who long for death, but it cometh not, And dig for it more than for hid treasures; Who rejoice exceedingly, And are glad, when they can find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, And whom God hath hedged in?