I cry out, ‘Violence! ’ but get no response; I call for help, but there is no justice.
Even when I cry out and plead for help, he blocks out my prayer.
Would you really challenge my justice? Would you declare me guilty to justify yourself?
For Job has declared, ‘I am righteous, yet God has deprived me of justice.
I cry out to you for help, but you do not answer me; when I stand up, you merely look at me.
I know your thoughts very well, the schemes by which you would wrong me.
For whenever I speak, I cry out, I proclaim, ‘Violence and destruction! ’ So the word of the Lord has become my constant disgrace and derision.
I wish that someone might argue for a man with God just as anyone would for a friend.
Is it good for you to oppress, to reject the work of your hands, and favour the plans of the wicked?
For he is not a man like me, that I can answer him, that we can take each other to court.
The earth is handed over to the wicked; he blindfolds its judges. If it isn’t he, then who is it?
Yet no one would stretch out his hand against a ruined person when he cries out to him for help because of his distress.
I walk about blackened, but not by the sun. I stood in the assembly and cried out for help.