I am afraid of all my sorrows, I know that thou wilt not hold me innocent. I shall be condemned; Why then do I labor in vain? If I wash myself with snow water, And make my hands never so clean; Yet wilt thou plunge me in the ditch, And mine own clothes shall abhor me. For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, That we should come together in judgment. There is no umpire betwixt us, That might lay his hand upon us both. Let him take his rod away from me, And let not his terror make me afraid: Then would I speak, and not fear him; For I am not so in myself.
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