because it didn’t shut up the doors of my mother’s womb, nor did it hide trouble from my eyes.“ Why didn’t I die from the womb? Why didn’t I give up the spirit when my mother bore me?Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breast, that I should nurse?For now should I have lain down and been quiet. I should have slept, then I would have been at rest,
For we are consumed in your anger. We are troubled in your wrath.You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence.For all our days have passed away in your wrath. We bring our years to an end as a sigh.