Your hands have made me
"I'm weary of my life. I'll give free rein to my complaint; I'll speak out of the bitterness of my soul. I'll say to God, 'Don't condemn me. Show me why you're contending with me. Does it seem good to you to oppress me, to despise the work of your own hands while shining favour on the counsel of the wicked? Do you have eyes of flesh? Do you see as man sees? Are your days like the days of man? Are your years like a man's days, that you inquire after my wrongdoing and search out my sin? You know that I am not wicked, and there is no one who can deliver out of your hand. Your hands shaped me and made me, every part of me — and now you would destroy me. Remember, I beg you, that you shaped me like clay. Will you turn me back into dust? Have you not poured me out like milk and curdled me like cheese? You clothed me with skin and flesh and fenced me with bones and sinews. You granted me life and favour, and your visitation preserved my spirit. Yet these things you have hidden in your heart. I know this was with you. If I sin, you mark me and will not acquit me of my wrongdoing. If I'm wicked, I'm in trouble. If I'm righteous, I still can't lift my head. I'm full of disgrace and overwhelmed by my suffering. For it increases. You hunt me like a fierce lion, and again you show yourself marvellous upon me. You renew your witnesses against me and increase your anger upon me; changes and war are against me. Why, then, did you bring me out of the womb? I wish I'd died before any eye saw me, as though I'd never existed, carried straight from the womb to the grave. Aren't my days few? Then stop. Leave me alone so I can take a little comfort, before I go where I will not return, to the land of darkness and the shadow of death, a land dark as darkness itself, the shadow of death with no order, where even the light is like darkness."
My soul is tired of my life. I'll leave my complaint on myself. I'll speak in the bitterness of my soul. I'll say to God: Don't condemn me. Show me why you're fighting me. Is it good to you that you should crush, that you should sneer at the work of your hands, and shine on the plans of the wicked? Have you got eyes of flesh? Or do you see the way man sees? Are your days like the days of man? Are your years like man's days, that you ask about my wrongdoing and search out my sin? You know I'm not wicked, and there's nobody who can rescue out of your hand. Your hands have made me and shaped me all over. Even so, you wreck me. Remember, please, that you've made me like clay. And will you bring me into dust again? Haven't you poured me out like milk and curdled me like cheese? You've dressed me with skin and flesh, and fenced me with bones and sinews. You've given me life and favour, and your care has kept my spirit. And you've hidden these things in your heart. I know this is with you. If I sin, then you mark me and won't clear me of my wrongdoing. If I'm wicked, trouble is coming to me. And if I'm righteous, I still won't lift up my head. I'm full of shame. So look at my trouble, because it grows. You hunt me like a fierce lion, and again you show yourself amazing on me. You bring new witnesses against me and make your anger against me bigger. Changes and war are against me. So why did you bring me out of the womb? If only I'd given up the ghost, and no eye had seen me. I'd have been as if I'd never been. I'd have been carried from the womb to the grave. Aren't my days few? Stop then, and leave me alone, so I can get a little comfort, before I go where I won't come back from, to the land of darkness and the shadow of death — a land of gloom, like darkness itself, of the shadow of death and with no order, where the light is like darkness.
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 unto God, Do not condemn me; shew me wherefore thou contendest with me. Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress, that thou shouldest despise the work of thine 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 enquirest after mine iniquity, and searchest after my sin? Thou knowest that I am not wicked; and there is none that can deliver out of thine hand. Thine hands have made me and fashioned me together round about; 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 favour, and thy visitation hath preserved my spirit. And these things hast thou hid in thine heart: I know that this is with thee. If I sin, then thou markest me, and thou wilt not acquit me from mine iniquity. If I be wicked, woe unto me; and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of confusion; therefore see thou mine affliction; For it increaseth. Thou huntest me as a fierce lion: and again thou shewest thyself marvellous upon me. Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, and increasest thine indignation upon me; changes and war are against me. Wherefore then hast thou brought me forth out of the womb? Oh that I had given up the ghost, 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 shadow of death; A land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness.
"I'm weary of my life. I'll give free rein to my complaint; I'll speak out of the bitterness of my soul.
My soul is tired of my life. I'll leave my complaint on myself. I'll speak in the bitterness of my soul.
My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
I'll say to God, 'Don't condemn me. Show me why you're contending with me.
I'll say to God: Don't condemn me. Show me why you're fighting me.
I will say unto God, Do not condemn me; shew me wherefore thou contendest with me.
Does it seem good to you to oppress me, to despise the work of your own hands while shining favour on the counsel of the wicked?
Is it good to you that you should crush, that you should sneer at the work of your hands, and shine on the plans of the wicked?
Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress, that thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?
Do you have eyes of flesh? Do you see as man sees?
Have you got eyes of flesh? Or do you see the way man sees?
Hast thou eyes of flesh? or seest thou as man seeth?
Are your days like the days of man? Are your years like a man's days,
Are your days like the days of man? Are your years like man's days,
Are thy days as the days of man? are thy years as man’s days,
that you inquire after my wrongdoing and search out my sin?
that you ask about my wrongdoing and search out my sin?
That thou enquirest after mine iniquity, and searchest after my sin?
You know that I am not wicked, and there is no one who can deliver out of your hand.
You know I'm not wicked, and there's nobody who can rescue out of your hand.
Thou knowest that I am not wicked; and there is none that can deliver out of thine hand.
Your hands shaped me and made me, every part of me — and now you would destroy me.
Your hands have made me and shaped me all over. Even so, you wreck me.
Thine hands have made me and fashioned me together round about; yet thou dost destroy me.
Remember, I beg you, that you shaped me like clay. Will you turn me back into dust?
Remember, please, that you've made me like clay. And will you bring me into dust again?
Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast made me as the clay; and wilt thou bring me into dust again?
Have you not poured me out like milk and curdled me like cheese?
Haven't you poured me out like milk and curdled me like cheese?
Hast thou not poured me out as milk, and curdled me like cheese?
You clothed me with skin and flesh and fenced me with bones and sinews.
You've dressed me with skin and flesh, and fenced me with bones and sinews.
Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and hast fenced me with bones and sinews.
You granted me life and favour, and your visitation preserved my spirit.
You've given me life and favour, and your care has kept my spirit.
Thou hast granted me life and favour, and thy visitation hath preserved my spirit.
Yet these things you have hidden in your heart. I know this was with you.
And you've hidden these things in your heart. I know this is with you.
And these things hast thou hid in thine heart: I know that this is with thee.
If I sin, you mark me and will not acquit me of my wrongdoing.
If I sin, then you mark me and won't clear me of my wrongdoing.
If I sin, then thou markest me, and thou wilt not acquit me from mine iniquity.
If I'm wicked, I'm in trouble. If I'm righteous, I still can't lift my head. I'm full of disgrace and overwhelmed by my suffering.
If I'm wicked, trouble is coming to me. And if I'm righteous, I still won't lift up my head. I'm full of shame. So look at my trouble,
If I be wicked, woe unto me; and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of confusion; therefore see thou mine affliction;
For it increases. You hunt me like a fierce lion, and again you show yourself marvellous upon me.
because it grows. You hunt me like a fierce lion, and again you show yourself amazing on me.
For it increaseth. Thou huntest me as a fierce lion: and again thou shewest thyself marvellous upon me.
You renew your witnesses against me and increase your anger upon me; changes and war are against me.
You bring new witnesses against me and make your anger against me bigger. Changes and war are against me.
Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, and increasest thine indignation upon me; changes and war are against me.
Why, then, did you bring me out of the womb? I wish I'd died before any eye saw me,
So why did you bring me out of the womb? If only I'd given up the ghost, and no eye had seen me.
Wherefore then hast thou brought me forth out of the womb? Oh that I had given up the ghost, and no eye had seen me!
as though I'd never existed, carried straight from the womb to the grave.
I'd have been as if I'd never been. I'd have been carried from the womb to the grave.
I should have been as though I had not been; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.
Aren't my days few? Then stop. Leave me alone so I can take a little comfort,
Aren't my days few? Stop then, and leave me alone, so I can get a little comfort,
Are not my days few? cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
before I go where I will not return, to the land of darkness and the shadow of death,
before I go where I won't come back from, to the land of darkness and the shadow of death —
Before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death;
a land dark as darkness itself, the shadow of death with no order, where even the light is like darkness."
a land of gloom, like darkness itself, of the shadow of death and with no order, where the light is like darkness.
A land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness.