Week Twenty-seven,
Thursday.
Morning.
My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
I will say unto God, Do not condemn me: shew me wherefore thou contendest with me.
Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress? That thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands?
Hast thou eyes of flesh? Or seest thou as man seeth?
Are thy days as the days of man? Are thy years as man’s days,
That thou enquirest after mine iniquity, and searchest after my sin?
Job x. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Evening.
O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires.
Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for the Lord hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.
But Zion said, the Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.
Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb: yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget them.
Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.
Isa. liv. 11.
Isa. xlix. 13, 14, 15. 16.