Classic Poem

And now, O Job, what I shall utter, hear;
As I my lips, so open thou thine ear.
I sacred knowledge clearly will impart,
Drawn from the fountain of a single heart.
God made us both, with breath of life inspir'd,
In shrouds of frail mortality attir'd.
Then since we shall with equal arms contend,
Arise, and if thou canst, thy cause defend.
Behold, according to thy wish I stand
Instead of God, though made of slime and sand.
I will not with stern menaces affright,
Nor shall my hand on thee like thunder light.
For I with grief, O Job, have heard thee vaunt,
And break into this passionate complaint:
" My heart is uncorrupt, my innocence
Without a stain, my life free from offence;
Yet He occasion seeks to overthrow,
And trample on me as His mortal foe;
Who, lest I should escape, in fetters binds,
Observes my steps, and makes the faults He finds."
How rash is thy bold charge? God is complete
In His own essence, much than man more great:
And yet dar'st thou contend, His patience grieve?
Will He a reason for His actions give?
Oft He to mortals speaks, yet will not they
The counsel of His oracles obey.
Sometimes by dreams in silence of the night,
Sometimes by visions He informs their sight,
When sleep his poppy on their temples sheds,
Or they lie musing on their restless beds.
The cause of their afflictions then reveals,
And on their hearts His reprehension seals,
That He may man prevent, his pride repell,
Save from the sword and greedy jaws of hell.
For this, diseased on his bed he groans,
While unrelenting torments gnaw his bones;
The sight of food his empty stomach fills,
And dainties to his taste are Ioathsome pills;
By wasting hectics of his flesh bereft,
Bones late unseen alone apparent left;
His soul sits mourning at the gates of death,
While anguish strives to suffocate his breath.
But if a prophet or interpreter,
One of a thousand, with the sick confer,
Before his eyes his ugly sins detect,
And to a better life his steps direct,
Then Mercy thus will cry, " Release the bound
From sin and hell, I have a ransom found."
Then shall his bones the flesh of babes endue,
His youth and beauty like the spring renew.
He shall his God implore; His glorious face
With joy behold, and flourish in His grace;
For God will his integrity regard,
His virtue with a bounteous hand reward.
His eyes the secrets of all hearts survey.
When the contrite and bleeding soul shall say:
" How have I justice forc'd! the poor undone!
Sin heap'd on sin! to my own ruin run!"
Then God shall raise him from the shades of night,
And he shall live to see th' etherial light.
Thus oft to man that Pow'r which wounds and heals,
The way to joy by misery reveals,
That he may longer with the living dwell,
Snatch'd from th' extended jaws of death and hell.
O thou of men most wretched! hear me speak,
Nor in thy frantic passion silence break.
If thou thyself canst clear, at large reply,
For I thy life would gladly justify.
If not, my words with wisdom shall inform
Thy erring soul, and mitigate this storm. "