23 If a scourge doth put to death suddenly, At the trial of the innocent He laugheth.
24 Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not--where, who [is] he?
25 My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,
26 They have passed on with ships of reed, As an eagle darteth on food.
27 Though I say, `I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
28 I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
29 I--I am become wicked; why [is] this? [In] vain I labour.