Then Job answered and said, Oh that my vexation were but weighed, And all my calamity laid in the balances! For now it would be heavier than the sand of the seas: Therefore have my words been rash. For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, The poison whereof my spirit drinketh up: The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me. Doth the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or loweth the ox over his fodder? Can that which hath no savor be eaten without salt? Or is there any taste in the white of an egg? My soul refuseth to touch them; They are as loathsome food to me. Oh that I might have my request; And that God would grant me the thing that I long for! Even that it would please God to crush me; That he would let loose his hand, and cut me off! And be it still my consolation, Yea, let me exult in pain that spareth not, That I have not denied the words of the Holy One. What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is mine end, that I should be patient? Is my strength the strength of stones? Or is my flesh of brass? Is it not that I have no help in me, And that wisdom is driven quite from me?
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