The Lord Speaks

Then The Lord answered Job out of the storm. He said:

       "Who is this that darkens My counsel
          with words without knowledge?
       Brace yourself like a man;
          I will question you,
          and you shall answer Me.

       "Where were you when I laid the earth's
              foundation?
          Tell Me, if you understand.
       Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
          Who stretched a measuring line across it?
       On what were its footings set,
          or who laid its cornerstone--
       while the morning stars sang together
          and all the angels shouted for joy?

       "Who shut up the sea behind doors
          when it burst forth from the womb,
       when I made the clouds its garment
          and wrapped it in thick darkness,
       when I fixed limits for it
          and set its doors and bars in place,
       when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther;
          here is where your proud waves halt'?

       "Have you ever given orders to the morning,
          or shown the dawn its place,
       that it might take the earth by the edges
          and shake the wicked out of it?
       The earth takes shape like clay under a seal;
          its features stand out like those of a garment.
       The wicked are denied their light,
          and their upraised arm is broken.

       "Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea
          or walked in the recesses of the deep?
       Have the gates of death been shown to you?
          Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?
       Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth?
          Tell Me, if you know all this.

       "What is the way to the abode of light?
          And where does darkness reside?
       Can you take them to their places?
          Do you know the paths to their dwellings?
       Surely you know, for you were already born!
          You have lived so many years!

       "Have you entered the store houses of the snow
          or seen the storehouses of the hail,
       which I reserve for times of trouble,
          for days of war and battle?
       What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed,
          or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
       Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
          and a path for the thunderstorm,
       to water a land where no man lives,
          a desert with no one in it,
       to satisfy a desolate wasteland
          and make it sprout with grass?
       Does the rain have a father?
          Who fathers the drops of dew?
       From whose womb comes the ice?
          Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens
       when the waters become hard as stone,
          when the surface of the deep is frozen?

       "Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades?
          Can you loose the cords of Orion?
       Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons
          or lead out the Bear with its cubs?
       Do you know the laws of the heavens?
          Can you set up GOD's dominion over the earth?

       "Can you raise your voice to the clouds
          and cover yourself with a flood of water?
       Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?
          Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?
       Who endowed the heart with wisdom
          or gave understanding to the mind?
       Who has the wisdom to count the clouds?
          Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
       when the dust becomes hard
          and the clods of earth stick together?

       "Do you hunt the prey for the lioness
          and satisfy the hunger of the lions
       when they crouch in their dens
          or lie in wait in a thicket?
       Who provides food for the raven
          when its young cry out to GOD
       and wonder about for lack of food?

       "Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?
          Do you watch when the doe bears her fawn?
       Do you count the months till they bear?
          Do you know the time they give birth?
       They crouch down and bring forth their young;
          their labor pains are ended.
       Their young thrive and grow strong in the wilds;
          they leave and do not return.

       "Who let the wild donkey go free?
          Who untied his ropes?
       I gave him the wasteland as his home,
          the salt flats as his habitat.
       He laughs at the commotion in the town;
          he does not hear a driver's shout.
       He ranges the hills for his pasture
          and searches for any green thing.

       "Will the wild ox consent to serve you?
          Will he stay by your manger at night?
       Can you hold him to the furrow with a harness?
          Will he till the valleys behind you?
       Will you rely on him for his great strength?
          Will you leave your heavy work to him?
       Can you trust him to bring in your grain
          and gather it to your threshing floor?

       "The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully,
          but they cannot compare with the pinions and
                 feathers of the stork.
       She lays her eggs on the ground
          and lets them warm in the sand,
       unmindful that a foot may crush them,
          that some wild animal may trample them.
       She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers;
          she cares not that her labor was in vain,
       for GOD did not endow her with wisdom
          or give her a share of good sense.
       Yet when she spreads her feathers to run,
          she laughs at horse and rider.

       "Do you give the horse his strength
          or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?
       Do you make him leap like a locust,
          striking terror with his proud snorting?
       He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength,
          and charges into the fray.
       He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing;
          he does not shy away from the sword.
       The quiver rattles against his side,
          along with the flashing spear and lance.
       In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground;
          he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.
       At the blast of the trumpet he snorts, 'Aha!'
          He catches the scent of battle from afar,
          the shout of commanders and the battle cry.

       "Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom
          and spread his wings toward the south?
       Does the eagle soar at your command
          and build his nest on high?
       He dwells on a cliff and stays there at night;
          a rocky crag is his stronghold.
       From there he seeks out his food;
          his eyes detect it from afar.
       His young ones feast on blood,
          and where the slain are, there is he."


The Book of Job: chapter 38 & chapter 39