1 My soul is tired of life; I will let my sad thoughts go free in words; my soul will make a bitter outcry.

2 I will say to God, Do not put me down as a sinner; make clear to me what you have against me.

3 What profit is it to you to be cruel, to give up the work of your hands, looking kindly on the design of evil-doers?

4 Have you eyes of flesh, or do you see as man sees?

5 Are your days as the days of man, or your years like his,

6 That you take note of my sin, searching after my wrongdoing,

7 Though you see that I am not an evil-doer; and there is no one who is able to take a man out of your hands?

8 Your hands made me, and I was formed by you, but then, changing your purpose, you gave me up to destruction.

9 O keep in mind that you made me out of earth; and will you send me back again to dust?

10 Was I not drained out like milk, becoming hard like cheese?

11 By you I was clothed with skin and flesh, and joined together with bones and muscles.

12 You have been kind to me, and your grace has been with me, and your care has kept my spirit safe.

13 But you kept these things in the secret of your heart; I am certain this was in your thoughts:

14 That, if I did wrong, you would take note of it, and would not make me clear from sin:

15 That, if I was an evil-doer, the curse would come on me; and if I was upright, my head would not be lifted up, being full of shame and overcome with trouble.

16 And that if there was cause for pride, you would go after me like a lion; and again put out your wonders against me:

17 That you would send new witnesses against me, increasing your wrath against me, and letting loose new armies on me.

18 Why then did you make me come out of my mother's body? It would have been better for me to have taken my last breath, and for no eye to have seen me,

19 And for me to have been as if I had not been; to have been taken from my mother's body straight to my last resting-place.

20 Are not the days of my life small in number? Let your eyes be turned away from me, so that I may have a little pleasure,

21 Before I go to the place from which I will not come back, to the land where all is dark and black,

22 A land of thick dark, without order, where the very light is dark.

1 My soul is weary of my life;

I will give free course to my complaint;

I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.

2 I will say unto God, Do not condemn me;

Show me wherefore thou contendest with me.

3 Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress,

That thou shouldest despise the work of thy hands,

And shine upon the counsel of the wicked?

4 Hast thou eyes of flesh?

Or seest thou as man seeth?

5 Are thy days as the days of man,

Or thy years as man’s days,

6 That thou inquirest after mine iniquity,

And searchest after my sin,

7 Although thou knowest that I am not wicked,

And there is none that can deliver out of thy hand?

8 Thy hands have framed me and fashioned me

Together round about; yet thou dost destroy me.

9 Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast fashioned me as clay;

And wilt thou bring me into dust again?

10 Hast thou not poured me out as milk,

And curdled me like cheese?

11 Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh,

And knit me together with bones and sinews.

12 Thou hast granted me life and lovingkindness;

And thy visitation hath preserved my spirit.

13 Yet these things thou didst hide in thy heart;

I know that this is with thee:

14 If I sin, then thou markest me,

And thou wilt not acquit me from mine iniquity.

15 If I be wicked, woe unto me;

And if I be righteous, yet shall I not lift up my head;

Being filled with ignominy,

And looking upon mine affliction.

16 And if my head exalt itself, thou huntest me as a lion;

And again thou showest thyself marvellous upon me.

17 Thou renewest thy witnesses against me,

And increasest thine indignation upon me:

Changes and warfare are with me.

18 Wherefore then hast thou brought me forth out of the womb?

I had given up the ghost, and no eye had seen me.

19 I should have been as though I had not been;

I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.

20 Are not my days few? cease then,

And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,

21 Before I go whence I shall not return,

Even to the land of darkness and of the shadow of death;

22 The land dark as midnight,

The land of the shadow of death, without any order,

And where the light is as midnight.