Job 10
1 My soul doth loathe my life, —I let loose my complaint, I speak, in the bitterness of my soul.
Yt anoieth my soule of my lijf; Y schal lete my speche ayens me, Y schal speke in the bitternesse of my soule.
2 I say unto GOD, Do not hold me guilty, Let me know, on what account thou contendest with me!
Y schal seie to God, Nyle thou condempne me; schewe thou to me, whi thou demest me so.
3 Is it seemly in thee, that thou shouldst oppress? that thou shouldst despise the labour of thine own hand, when, upon the counsel of the lawless, thou hast shone?
Whether it semeth good to thee, if thou `falsli chalengist and oppressist me, the werk of thin hondis; and if thou helpist the counsel of wickid men?
4 Eyes of flesh, hast thou? or, as a mortal seeth, seest thou?
Whethir fleischli iyen ben to thee, ethir, as a man seeth, also thou schalt se?
5 As the days of a mortal, are thy days? or, thy years, as the days of a man?
Whether thi daies ben as the daies of man, and `thi yeeris ben as mannus tymes;
6 That thou shouldst seek for mine iniquity, and, for my sin, shouldst make search:
that thou enquere my wickidnesse, and enserche my synne?
7 Though it is, within thine own knowledge, that I would not be lawless, and, none, out of thy hand, can deliver?
And wite, that Y haue do no `wickid thing; sithen no man is, that may delyuere fro thin hond?
8 Thine own hands, shaped me, and made me, all in unison round about, and yet thou hast confounded me.
Thin hondis han maad me, and han formed me al in cumpas; and thou castist me doun so sodeynli.
9 Remember, I pray thee, that, as clay, thou didst make me, and, unto dust, thou wilt cause me to return.
Y preye, haue thou mynde, that thou madist me as cley, and schalt brynge me ayen in to dust.
10 Didst thou not, like milk, pour me forth? and, as cheese, curdle me?
Whether thou hast not mylkid me as mylk, and hast cruddid me togidere as cheese?
11 With skin and flesh, clothe me? and, with bones and sinews, interweave me?
Thou clothidist me with skyn and fleisch; thou hast ioyned me togidere with boonys and senewis.
12 Life and lovingkindness, thou didst bestow upon me, —and, thy watchful care, preserved my breath.
Thou hast youe lijf and mercy to me, and thi visiting hath kept my spirit.
13 Yet, these things, thou didst hide in thy heart, I know that, this, hath been with thee!
Thouy thou helist these thingis in thin herte, netheles Y woot, that thou hast mynde of alle thingis.
14 If I have sinned, then couldst thou watch me, and, from mine iniquity, thou wouldst not acquit me:
If Y dide synne, and thou sparidist me at an our; whi suffrist thou not me to be cleene of my wickidnesse?
15 If I have been lawless, alas for me! Or, if I am righteous, I will not lift up my head, Surfeited with shame, look thou then on my humiliation.
And if Y was wickid, wo is to me; and if Y was iust, Y fillid with turment and wretchidnesse `schal not reise the heed.
16 When it is lifted up, like a howling lion, thou dost hunt me, Then again thou dost shew thyself marvellous against me.
And if Y reise `the heed for pride, thou schalt take me as a lionesse; and thou turnest ayen, and turmentist me wondirli.
17 Thou renewest thy witnesses before me, and dost increase thy vexation with me, Relays—yea an army, is with me.
Thou gaderist in store thi witnessis ayens me, and thou multipliest thin yre, `that is, veniaunce, ayens me; and peynes holden knyythod in me.
18 Wherefore then, from the womb, didst thou bring me forth? I might have breathed my last, and, no eye, have seen me.
Whi hast thou led me out of the wombe? `And Y wolde, that Y were wastid, lest an iye `schulde se me.
19 As though I had not been, should I have become, —from the womb to the grave, might I have been borne.
That Y hadde be, as if Y were not, and `were translatid, ethir borun ouer, fro the wombe to the sepulcre.
20 Are not my days, few?—then forbear, and set me aside, that I may brighten up for a little;
Whether the fewnesse of my daies schal not be endid in schort? Therfor suffre thou me, that Y biweile `a litil my sorewe,
21 Before I go, and not return, unto a land of darkness and death-shade:
bifor that Y go, and turne not ayen, to the derk lond, and hilid with the derknesse of deth, to the lond of wrecchidnesse and of derknessis;
22 A land of obscurity, like thick darkness, of death-shade and disorder, and which shineth like thick darkness.
where is schadewe of deeth, and noon ordre, but euerlastynge hidousnesse dwellith.
