Job: I want to ask God for forgiveness
1
My soule is cut off though I liue: I wil leaue my complaint vpon my selfe, and wil speake in the bitternesse of my soule.
2
I will say vnto God, Condemne mee not: shew me, wherefore thou contendest with mee.
3
Thinkest thou it good to oppresse me, and to cast off the labour of thine handes, and to fauour the counsel of the wicked?
4
Hast thou carnall eyes? or doest thou see as man seeth?
5
Are thy dayes as mans dayes? or thy yeres, as the time of man,
6
That thou inquirest of mine iniquitie, and searchest out my sinne?
7
Thou knowest that I can not do wickedly: for none can deliuer me out of thine hand.
8
Thine handes haue made me, and fashioned mee wholy rounde about, and wilt thou destroy me?
9
Remember, I pray thee, that thou hast made me as the clay, and wilt thou bring me into dust againe?
10
Hast thou not powred me out as milke? and turned me to cruds like cheese?
11
Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh, and ioyned me together with bones and sinewes.
12
Thou hast giuen me life, and grace: and thy visitation hath preserued my spirit.
13
Though thou hast hid these things in thine heart, yet I knowe that it is so with thee.
14
If I haue sinned, then thou wilt streightly looke vnto me, and wilt not holde mee giltlesse of mine iniquitie.
15
If I haue done wickedly, wo vnto me: if I haue done righteously, I will not lift vp mine head, being full of confusion, because I see mine affliction.
16
But let it increase: hunt thou me as a lyon: returne and shew thy selfe marueilous vpon me.
17
Thou renuest thy plagues against me, and thou increasest thy wrath against me: changes and armies of sorowes are against me.
18
Wherfore then hast thou brought me out of the wombe? Oh that I had perished, and that none eye had seene me!
19
And that I were as I had not bene, but brought from the wombe to the graue!
20
Are not my dayes fewe? let him cease, and leaue off from me, that I may take a litle comfort,
21
Before I goe and shall not returne, euen to the land of darkenesse and shadow of death:
22
Into a land, I say, darke as darknes it selfe, and into the shadow of death, where is none order, but the light is there as darkenesse.