Jon Huer writes

THE SEDUCTION OF JOB: Twenty Years Later   

A Dramatic Poem

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Job continues his self‑examination.

JOB TO SELF: 

O Lord my God, I am on trial again,  

But a trial of a different kind this time 

For I know I am guilty in my heart;  

And shame pours into my soul to curse me. 

In my earlier trial God punished me;  

Now I am punishing myself in this new judgment.   

In my pride I was privileged by the Almighty;  

As a haughty spirit people honored in error. 

They said, "There goes wise and pious Job:  

Blessed by God and steeped in wisdom, 

No other man in such high honor and esteem  

Is round about in the land of Uz this day." 

My wealth proved the innocence of my pride;  

Public honor protected the spirit of my haughtiness. 

But who was the real wise man who said,  

"Pride goeth before destruction, 

And an haughty spirit before a fall"?  

When neither my honor nor my wealth sustains me 

People will deride and scorn in true wisdom:  

"But when his heart was lifted up, 

And his mind hardened in pride,  

He was deposed from his kingly throne, 

And they took his glory from him."    

O how happy is everyone but my own miserable being! 

O how the lowly and poor now wear the crown of a king!  

O how their laughter pierces my heart like an arrow, 

And their mirth stabs my spirit like a sword!  

Do beasts and insects know the torment of my soul; 

Can the weeping of my heart be wholly unheard by them;  

Would they laugh at the cry of my torn spirit? 

Men and animals, lowly to lowliest,  

I bow to you in mourning and sorrow. 

Wonderful was everything before my fall:  

I was honored by all, esteemed by all; 

But grim and lonely is my life now.  

How I envy everyone who walks before my eyes‑‑

My servants, townspeople, and beasts and insects‑‑  

I wish I could be born as one of you, 

For you know not the great height  

That I climbed, and from which I fell.

    

No misery is greater than the pain of regrets,  

Being powerless to undo what has been done, 

For wisdom seldom arrives on time.  

I was charitable to all, but more to myself still: 

My wealth generously given away to the needy,  

But did I not keep the lion's share? 

Always among the first to be at the mourning,  

But did my heart truly grieve at the dead? 

Although I walked humbly before the Almighty,  

Did my spirit not believe I was above all men, 

Untouchable, superior, and beyond reproach?  

The Lord gave, and I misspent His gift.   

I cannot curse the day I was born for my guilt;  

Nor can I cry to heaven to take away my shame. 

The weight of my guilt and shame is crushing me,  

Yet who can lift it and relieve me 

When I alone put the weight upon myself?  

I was righteous without the true right, 

And was pious without the heart of true piety.  

The Commandments were followed, but not in humility, 

Public charity given to all, but without love.  

In all things I was first, God second, man third. 

The tears of my sorrow I must shed alone;  

The cries of my torment must I utter in silence.

O frailties of high honor and reputation,  

That can be destroyed and washed away 

As swiftly as the flight of time's moment  

And in the most ignoble of human follies. 

I built a dunghill of a monument to myself  

With great shows of piety and righteousness. 

Yet, in my moment of sheer stupidity and silliness,  

I blew away my dunghill monument to pieces, 

And angered the Lord my God and all his angels.    

O the desolation and loneliness of a fallen man 

Whose pride and haughtiness took him to a great height,  

From which he fell to the depth of greater misery 

Which he so rightfully deserved and received.  

But will God redeem him again?
 

 --William Blake