My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
I will say to God, Do not condemn me; show me why thou contendest with me.
Is it good to thee that thou shouldst oppress, that thou shouldst despise the work of thy hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?
Hast thou eyes of flesh? or seest thou as man seeth?
Are thy days as the days of man? are thy years as man's days,
That thou inquirest after my iniquity, and searchest after my sin?
Thou knowest that I am not wicked; and there is none that can deliver out of thy hand.
Thy hands have made me and fashioned me in all my parts; yet thou dost destroy me.
Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast made me as the clay; and wilt thou bring me into dust again?
Hast thou not poured me out as milk, and curdled me like cheese?
Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and hast fenced me with bones and sinews.
Thou hast granted me life and favor, and thy visitation hath preserved my spirit.
And these things hast thou hid in thy heart: I know that this is with thee.
If I sin, then thou markest me, and thou wilt not acquit me from my iniquity.
If I be wicked, woe to me; and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of confusion; therefore see thou my affliction;
For it increaseth. Thou huntest me as a fierce lion: and again thou showest thyself wonderful upon me.
Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, and increasest thy indignation upon me; changes and war are against me.
Why then hast thou brought me forth from the womb? O that I had expired, and no eye had seen me!
I should have been as though I had not been; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.
Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
Before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness, and the shades of death;
A land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shades of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness.