Job 13
1 Lo! myn iye siy alle thingis, and myn eere herde; and Y vndurstood alle thingis.
“Behold, my eye has seen all, My ear has heard, and it attends to it.
2 Euene with youre kunnyng also Y kan, and Y am not lowere than ye.
According to your knowledge I have known—also I. I am not more fallen than you.
3 But netheles Y schal speke to Almyyti God, and Y coueite to dispute with God;
Yet I speak for the Mighty One, And I delight to argue for God.
4 and firste Y schewe you makeris of leesyng, and louyeris of weyward techyngis.
And yet, you [are] forgers of falsehood, Physicians of nothing—all of you,
5 And `Y wolde that ye weren stille, that ye weren gessid to be wise men.
O that you would keep perfectly silent, And it would be to you for wisdom.
6 Therfor here ye my chastisyngis; and perseyue ye the doom of my lippis.
Please hear my argument, And attend to the pleadings of my lips,
7 Whether God hath nede to youre leesyng, that ye speke gilis for hym?
Do you speak perverseness for God? And do you speak deceit for Him?
8 Whether ye taken his face, and enforsen to deme for God?
Do you accept His face, if you strive for God?
9 Ethir it schal plese hym, fro whom no thing mai be hid? Whether he as a man schal be disseyued with youre falsnessis?
Is [it] good that He searches you, If, as one mocks at a man, you mock at Him?
10 He schal repreue you; for ye taken his face in hiddlis.
He surely reproves you, if you accept faces in secret.
11 Anoon as he schal stire hym, he schal disturble you; and his drede schal falle on you.
Does His excellence not terrify you? And His dread fall on you?
12 Youre mynde schal be comparisound to aische; and youre nollis schulen be dryuun in to clei.
Your remembrances [are] allegories of ashes, For high places of clay [are] your heights.
13 Be ye stille a litil, that Y speke, what euer thing the mynde hath schewid to me.
Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me what will.
14 Whi to-rende Y my fleischis with my teeth, and bere my lijf in myn hondis?
Why do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15 Yhe, thouy God sleeth me, Y schal hope in hym; netheles Y schal preue my weies in his siyt.
Behold, He slays me—I do not wait! Only, I argue my ways to His face.
16 And he schal be my sauyour; for whi ech ypocrite schal not come in his siyt.
Also—He [is] to me for salvation, For the profane do not come before Him.
17 Here ye my word, and perseyue ye with eeris derke and harde figuratif spechis.
Hear my word diligently, And my declaration with your ears.
18 Yf Y schal be demed, Y woot that Y schal be foundun iust.
Now behold, I have set the cause in order, I have known that I am righteous.
19 Who is he that is demed with me? Come he; whi am Y stille, and am wastid?
Who [is] he that strives with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
20 Do thou not to me twei thingis oneli; and thanne Y schal not be hid fro thi face.
Only two things, O God, do with me, Then I am not hidden from Your face:
21 Make thin hond fer fro me; and thi drede make not me aferd.
Put Your hand far off from me, And do not let Your terror terrify me.
22 Clepe thou me, and Y schal answere thee; ethir certis Y schal speke, and thou schalt answere me.
And You call, and I answer, Or—I speak, and You answer me.
23 Hou grete synnes and wickidnessis haue Y? Schewe thou to me my felonyes, and trespassis.
How many iniquities and sins do I have? Let me know my transgression and my sin.
24 Whi hidist thou thi face, and demest me thin enemy?
Why do You hide Your face? And reckon me for an enemy to You?
25 Thou schewist thi myyt ayens a leef, which is rauyschid with the wynd; and thou pursuest drye stobil.
Do You terrify a leaf driven away? And do You pursue the dry stubble?
26 For thou writist bitternessis ayens me; and wolt waste me with the synnes of my yong wexynge age.
For You write bitter things against me, And cause me to possess iniquities of my youth,
27 Thou hast set my foot in a stok, and thou hast kept alle my pathis; and thou hast biholde the steppis of my feet.
And you put my feet in the stocks, And observe all my paths—You set a print on the roots of my feet,
28 And Y schal be wastid as rot, and as a cloth, which is etun of a mouyte.
And he, as a rotten thing, wears away, A moth has consumed him as a garment.”
