Job.
Chapter 9.
And Job answers and says: 
“Truly I have known that it is so, || But how is man righteous with God? 
If he delights to strive with Him—He does not answer him one of a thousand. 
Wise in heart and strong in power—Who has hardened toward Him and is at peace? 
Who is removing mountains, || And they have not known, || Who has overturned them in His anger. 
Who is shaking earth from its place, || And its pillars move themselves. 
Who is commanding to the sun, and it does not rise, || And the stars He seals up. 
Stretching out the heavens by Himself, || And treading on the heights of the sea, 
Making the Great Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, || And the inner chambers of the south. 
Doing great things until there is no searching, || And wonderful, until there is no numbering. 
Behold, He goes over by me, and I do not see, || And He passes on, and I do not attend to it. 
Behold, He snatches away, who brings it back? Who says to Him, What are You doing? 
God does not turn back His anger, || Proud helpers have bowed under Him. 
How much less do I answer Him? Choose out my words with Him? 
Whom, though I were righteous, I do not answer, || For my judgment I make supplication. 
Though I had called and He answers me, I do not believe that He gives ear to my voice. 
Because He bruises me with a storm, || And has multiplied my wounds for nothing. 
He does not permit me to refresh my spirit, || But fills me with bitter things. 
If of power, behold, the Strong One; And if of judgment—who convenes me? 
If I am righteous, my mouth declares me wicked; If I am perfect, it declares me perverse. 
I am perfect; I do not know my soul, I despise my life. 
It is the same thing, therefore I said, || He is consuming the perfect and the wicked. 
If a scourge puts to death suddenly, He laughs at the trial of the innocent. 
Earth has been given || Into the hand of the wicked. He covers the faces of her judges, || If not—where, who is he? 
My days have been swifter than a runner, || They have fled, they have not seen good, 
They have passed on with ships of reed, || As an eagle darts on food. 
Though I say, I forget my talking, || I forsake my corner, and I brighten up! 
I have been afraid of all my griefs, || I have known that You do not acquit me. 
I become wicked; why is this? I labor in vain. 
If I have washed myself with snow-water, || And purified my hands with soap, 
Then You dip me in corruption, || And my garments have detested me. 
But if a man like myself—I answer Him, || We come together into judgment. 
If there were a mediator between us, || He places his hand on us both. 
He turns aside His rod from off me, || And His terror does not make me afraid, 
I speak, and do not fear Him, but I am not right with myself.”