1MY soul is weary of my life; I have reasoned in my judgment; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.

2I will say to God. Do not condemn me; show me why thou dost contend with me.

3Is it not enough to thee that thou shouldst oppress, that thou shouldst despise the work of thy hands, and regard the counsel of the wicked?

4Hast thou eyes of flesh? Or seest thou as a man sees?

5Are thy days as the days of men? Are thy years as man's days?

6That thou enquirest after my iniquity, and searchest after my sins?

7Thou knowest that I am innocent; and there is none that can deliver himself out of thy hands.

8Thy hands have made me and fashioned me: and afterward thou wishest to condemn me, and to destroy me.

9Remember that thou hast made me as clay; and wilt thou bring me into dust again?

10Thou hast churned me as milk, and curdled me as cheese.

11Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and hast strengthened me with bones and sinews.

12Thou hast granted me life and peace, and thy commandments have preserved my spirit.

13And these things hast thou hid in thy heart; I know that this is in thy mind.

14if I sin, then thou dost watch me, and thou dost not acquit me from my iniquity.

15If I be wicked, woe is me! and if I be righteous, still I cannot lift up my head. I have enough of reproach; I have seen my affliction.

16And if I exalt myself, thou dost hunt me like a lion, and then thou dost turn and show thyself gigantic over me.

17Thou hast set thy armor against me, and increasest thy indignation toward me. Thou dost array one host after another against me.

18Wherefore then hast thou brought me forth out of the womb? Would that I had died, and no eye had seen me!

19I should have been as though I had not lived; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.

20The days of my life are few; let me alone, that I may be quiet and rest a little

21Before I go from whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death.

22A land of loneliness and deep darkness, and of the shadow of death, without any order or time; wearisome like a deep pit.