Job.
Chapter 21.
Job replied, 
“Please listen carefully to what I say—that would be one comfort you could give me. 
Bear with me; let me speak. After I've spoken you can resume mocking me. 
Am I complaining against people? Of course not. Why shouldn't I be impatient? 
Just take a look at me. Aren't you appalled? Cover your mouth with your hand in shock! 
Every time I think of what's happened to me I am horrified and I shake all over with fear. 
Why do the wicked continue to live, to grow old and increasingly powerful? 
Their children are with them; they watch their grandchildren grow up. 
They live in their homes in safety—they are not afraid. God does not use his rod to beat them. 
Their bulls always breed successfully; their cows give birth to calves and do not miscarry. 
They send out their little ones like lambs to play; their children dance around. 
They sing accompanied by the tambourine and lyre; they celebrate with the music of the flute. 
They live out their lives contentedly, and go down to Sheol in peace. 
Yet they tell God, ‘Get lost! We don't want anything to do with you. 
Who does the Almighty think he is for us to serve him as slaves? What benefit is there for us if we pray to him?’ 
Such people believe they make their own fortune, but I don't accept their way of thinking. 
How often is the lamp of the wicked snuffed out? How often does disaster come upon them? How often does God punish the wicked in his anger? 
Are they blown along like straw in the wind? Does a tornado come in and carry them away? 
Some say, ‘God saves up people's punishment for their children.’ But I say, ‘God should punish those people themselves so that they can learn from it.’ 
Let them see their destruction themselves, and drink deeply from God's anger. 
For they don't care what happens to their families once they're dead. 
Can anyone teach God anything he doesn't already know, since he is the one who judges even heavenly beings? 
One person dies in good health, totally comfortable and secure. 
Their body is fat from eating well; their bones still strong. 
Another dies after a miserable life without ever experiencing happiness. 
Yet they are both buried in the same dust; they are treated alike in death, eaten by maggots. 
Look, I know what you're thinking, and your schemes to do me wrong. 
You may ask me, ‘Where is the home of the great man? Where is the place where the wicked live?’ 
Haven't you asked people who travel? Don't you pay attention to what they tell you? 
Wicked people are spared in times of disaster; they are rescued from the day of judgment. 
Who confronts them with their actions? Who pays them back for what they have done? 
When they eventually die and are carried to the graveyard, their tomb is guarded. The earth of the grave softly covers them. 
Everyone attends their funeral service; a huge procession of people comes to pay their last respects. 
Why do you try to comfort me with worthless nonsense? Your answers are just a pack of lies!” 
