May the day perish when I was born.
And the night that told of a boy conceived.
Like Job we often look back forlorn.
But we need to have faith not stand aggrieved.
Everyone warms to my wife’s kindly smile.
Whereas I just go on my guestioning way.
She utterly lacking in any selfish guile.
Of me , well, I dread what they will say.
Clouds of angels will take her to heaven.
I shall plod my weary way into purgatory.
And they will be lucky in heaven.
From afar I will look at her glory .
But all is not lost, we all progress.
After a very long time to ultimate success.
……
You may have Job’s fate
But with faith you will progress
To glory at last
…….
See Job 3