“If only my grief could be weighed, if only my misery could be laid on the scales with it,
“My complaint is bitter again today. I try hard to control my sighing.
⌞then⌟ let God weigh me on honest scales, and he will know I have integrity.
But trouble comes to you, and you’re impatient. It touches you, and you panic.
Then Job replied ⌞to his friends⌟,
The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger can share its joy.