I speak with bitterness of soul,
‘I hate my life; don’t prove me wrong.
O God, why do you oppose me?
Does oppression give pleasure, Lord? ’

‘Why spurn the good work of your hands?
Can’t you perceive like how man sees?
Is your lifetime akin mortals?
You know I’m not a wicked man,
And yet you seek my sins and guilt! ’

‘You fashioned me with your own hands
And then, why destroy me, O God?
From clay, you made me very well
Do you want to turn me to dust? ’

‘Like milk, you poured me, made me cheese!
You clothed my bones with flesh and skin;
You gave me grace and spirit too;
You hide your purpose in your heart! ’

‘You watch me sin but suffer guilt;
If I’m wicked, alas for me!
If righteous, what’s the advantage
To live in shame and afflicted? ’

‘A lion-like, you hunt me down
And show your mighty power, Lord;
Repeatedly, you attack me
And harass me, so often, God.’

‘Why out of womb, you brought me live?
I should have died without notice;
Had I ne’er lived, how much better?
From womb, you could have shown my tomb! ’

‘Are not my days on earth just few?
Leave me ’lone to recoup a bit,
Before I go to ne’er return,
From land of darkness and of gloom-
The land where darkness is but light! ’

Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-29-2007

Dr John Celes

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