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