9 Is [it] good that He doth search you, If, as one mocketh at a man, ye mock at Him?
10 He doth surely reprove you, if in secret ye accept faces.
11 Doth not His excellency terrify you? And His dread fall upon you?
12 Your remembrances [are] similes of ashes, For high places of clay your heights.
13 Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
14 Wherefore do I take my flesh in my teeth? And my soul put in my hand?
15 Lo, He doth slay me--I wait not! Only, my ways unto His face I argue.