In all the earth let not anyone ween
That I wrought this lay with lying speech,
With hated word-craft! Hear ye the wisdom
Of the hymns of Job! With heart of joy
550 And spirit brave, he boldly spoke;
With wondrous sanctity that word he said:
“I feel it a fact in the fastness of my soul
That one day in my nest death I shall know,
And weary of heart woefully go hence,
555 Compassed with clay, on my closing journey,