The Holy Bible – Knox Translation
The Book of Job
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Chapter 13
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Eyes nor ears nor wits are wanting to me,
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and I know all this as well as you, but I am still a match for you.
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Or rather, it is to God, the omnipotent, I will speak; with him I remonstrate;
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but first I would prove you what you are, unskilful plasterers all of you, that follow false rules of your craft.
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Would you but hold your tongues once for all! It were your best wisdom.
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Listen while I refute you; mark well what are my pleadings.
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Do you think God stands in need of your shifts, your lying advocacy?
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Are you God’s hired partisans, resolved to acquit him?
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Why then, beware of his own infallible scrutiny; think you he will be blinded, as men are blinded, by your sophistries?
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Nay, he himself will be the first to blame you for wrongful attachment to his cause;
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your turn, then, to fear every movement of his, to cower before his terrors!
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Your wise memories will vanish into dust, your pride will prove to be a thing of clay.
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Nay, hold your tongues for a little, while I say out my mind.
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Do not ask why I set my teeth so firmly,✻ take my life in my hand;
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let him slay me if he will! I await his decree;✻ needs must that I should make my defence before him,
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and spare me he will; let the guilty shun his presence, not I.
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Nay, hear me out; let me open my mind in full;
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should I stand my trial, I know that I must be found innocent!
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Only let me meet my accuser! Why must I die unheard?✻
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But two rights I claim, if I am to face thee openly;
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withdraw thy chastising hand, and daunt me with thy terrors no longer.
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Then, if thou wilt call me in question, I will make reply; or let me speak, and be thou ready with thy answer.
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Tell me, what are all these transgressions, these faults thou findest in me? What crime, what wrong-doing is mine?
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Why is it that thou turnest thy back on me, and wilt treat me as an enemy?
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As well wrestle with a flying leaf, chase a wisp of straw,
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as keep this jealous record against me, tax me with the offences of my youth!
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To hold me so close a prisoner, watch me wherever I go, track my foot-prints,
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when I am no better than rotting carrion, than a garment fretted away by the moth!
