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Then Job answered,
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"Truly I know that it is so, But how can man be just with God?
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If he is pleased to contend with him, He can't answer him one time in a thousand.
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God who is wise in heart, and mighty in strength: Who has hardened himself against him, and prospered?
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Who removes the mountains, and they don't know it, When he overturns them in his anger
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Who shakes the earth out of its place; The pillars of it tremble;
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Who commands the sun, and it doesn't rise, And seals up the stars;
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Who alone stretches out the heavens, Treads on the waves of the sea;
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Who makes the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, And the chambers of the south;
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Who does great things past finding out, Yes, marvelous things without number.
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Behold, he goes by me, and I don't see him. He passes on also, but I don't perceive him.
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Behold, he snatches away; who can hinder him? Who will ask him, 'What are you doing?'
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"God will not withdraw his anger; The helpers of Rahab stoop under him.
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How much less shall I answer him, Choose my words to argue with him?
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Whom, though I were righteous, yet would I not answer. I would make supplication to my judge.
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If I had called, and he had answered me, Yet would I not believe that he listened to my voice.
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For he breaks me with a tempest, Multiplies my wounds without cause.
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He will not allow me to take my breath, But fills me with bitterness.
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If it is a matter of strength, behold, he is mighty! If of justice, 'Who,' says he, 'will summon me?'
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Though I am righteous, my own mouth shall condemn me. Though I am blameless, it shall prove me perverse.
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I am blameless. I don't regard myself. I despise my life.
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"It is all the same. Therefore I say, He destroys the blameless and the wicked.
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If the scourge kills suddenly, He will mock at the trial of the innocent.
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The earth is given into the hand of the wicked. He covers the faces of the judges of it. If not he, then who is it?
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"Now my days are swifter than a runner. They flee away, they see no good,
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They have passed away as the swift ships, As the eagle that swoops on the prey.
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If I say, 'I will forget my complaint, I will put off my sad face, and cheer up;'
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I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that you will not hold me innocent.
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I shall be condemned; Why then do I labor in vain?
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If I wash myself with snow, And cleanse my hands with lye,
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Yet you will plunge me in the ditch. My own clothes shall abhor me.
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For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, That we should come together in judgment.
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There is no umpire between us, That might lay his hand on us both.
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Let him take his rod away from me, Let his terror not make me afraid:
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Then I would speak, and not fear him, For I am not so in myself.
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