Pity me , pity me.
My friends.
For the hand of God has struck me.
Where are my friends.

Why do you hound me  like God.
Will you never have enough of my flesh.
Soon I will be nothing , just under the sod.
Caught in death’s impenetrable mesh.

Ah, would that these words of mine were written down.
Inscribed on some monument with iron chisel.
How often in adversity do we feel so down.
Finding little solace even in God’s epistle.

Job says , my avenger does live.
But we know eventually he will thrive.

..  ……

Job says pity me
The hand of God had struck me
Know that he will thrive

….

See Job 19 : 21-27