I cry unto thee, and thou dost not hear me: I stand up, and thou regardest me not. Thou art become cruel to me: With thy strong hand thou opposest thyself against me. Thou liftest me up to the wind; thou causest me to ride upon it, And dissolvest my substance. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit he will not stretch out his hand to the grave, Though they cry in his destruction. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: And when I waited for light, there came darkness.
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