Bible Stories: Job (Chapter XXI)
Then Job in reply said:
Just listen to my words, will you?
Some consolation, that can do;
Please bear with me for what I say;
And after that, mock me, you may.
Did I complain to any man?
What’s wrong with my impatience, then?
Be astonished on seeing me;
By horror afflicted truly.
Why wicked should survive on earth?
How powerful they stay since birth!
And grow up to a ripe old age
That can the righteous well enrage.
Their progeny secure always;
Come timely their kinsfolk’s birthdays;
Their homes are safe by night and day;
The scourge of God comes not their way.
Their cattle do not fail to thrive,
Stay children merrily alive;
They dance to tunes of timbrel, flute;
Songs accompanied by harp cute.
On earth, they prosper and flourish;
Although, they live lives so selfish;
They go down to the nether world,
Without the need for God though old.
They dare to tell God to depart;
They never learn His ways or art;
Why should they serve the Almighty?
Why should they pray so fervently?
Their happiness lies in their hands;
If God really hates their bands,
How often are their lamps put out?
They live in lucre and by clout.
Should they not be like straw in wind?
Should not all pity God rescind?
Shouldn’t they see their calamity,
And drink the wrath of Almighty?
And yet, they die with content hearts,
And rule over their counter-parts;
Their bones are richly marrow-ful;
They look like well-nourished a bull.
Can anyone teach God knowledge?
He is on high, the fairest Judge;
The righteous die with bitter souls,
Running all life between the poles.
And when they turn to dust at last,
In nether world, they’re too worm-cast;
Where is the house of the magnate?
And where’s the dwelling of wicked?
And monuments stand for wicked!
The poor has lived a life wretched;
The evil ones are spared all strife,
Until the end of earthly life.
Who will charge them for misconduct?
Will they repay for bad product?
The valley clods are sweet to them;
A funeral mound keeps watch o’er them.
A line of mankind follows him;
Their lives cannot be ever grim;
How can you offer vain comfort?
Your answers don’t console my heart!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-5-2007
poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
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