I would still dread all the pain, for I know you will not find me innocent, O God. Whatever happens, I will be found guilty. So what’s the use of trying? Even if I were to wash myself with soap and clean my hands with lye, you would plunge me into a muddy ditch, and my own filthy clothing would hate me. “God is not a mortal like me, so I cannot argue with him or take him to trial. If only there were a mediator between us, someone who could bring us together. The mediator could make God stop beating me, and I would no longer live in terror of his punishment. Then I could speak to him without fear, but I cannot do that in my own strength.
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