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? For my sighing cometh before I eat, And my groanings are poured out like water. For the thing which I fear cometh upon me, And that which I am afraid of cometh unto me. I am not at ease, neither am I quiet, neither have I rest; But trouble cometh.
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