Redsong: Matthew 16.24-25

If any man would, after me, e’er come,
let him deny himself, take up his cross,
and follow me. For if, this, what he wants:
to save his life, then that he’d surely lose;
but whosoe’er, his life, for my sake counts
as loss, again, will surely find it, new.

Rhyming Job, Chapter 42.1-6

Then Job replied, this manner, to the LORD:

“I know that you can do all things; of yours,
no purpose, anyone could ever thwart.
You asked, ‘Who is this that, my plans, obscures,
who’s lacking knowledge?’ How, of things, I spoke
for sure I didn’t understand, conceive,
some things too wonderful for me to know.

“What you said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;
I’ll question you, and you shall answer me.’
My ears heard of you for my life, entire,
but now I’ve witnessed you with my own eyes.
Therefore myself, now what I full despise,
in dust and ashes, I’ll repent, chastised.”

Rhyming Job, Chapter 38

Then he, the LORD, spoke to Job from the storm.

He said: “Who is this that, my plans, obscures
with words that have no knowledge? Brace yourself
just like a man; I’ve come to question you,
and to my questions, answer me, you shall.

“Where were you when I laid it, that, the earth’s,
foundation. Tell me, if you understand.
Who, its dimensions, marked? You know its girth!
A line to measure, ‘cross it, who expands?
Upon what were its deepest footings sank,
or who, the person, laid its cornerstone —
while all the morning stars, together, sang
and all the angels shouted out for joy?

“Who shut the sea up in its doors so quick,
when from the womb, it burst forth, when I made
the clouds its garment and in darkness, thick,
I wrapped it in; I, limits, for it placed,
its doors and bars are what I firmly fixed,
when I said, ‘Here is where, your proudest waves
the place they’ll halt, this is their further-est’?

“Have you e’er, orders, to the morning, gave,
or shown the dawn the place where it will go,
that it might, by its edges, earth, up, take,
the wicked, clean, from out of it, o’erthrown?
Like clay beneath a seal, the earth takes shape,
its features stand out like those of a garb.
The wicked are denied their light, upraised,
their arm that is, it’s broken off, a nub.

“Have you into the sea’s springs, journeyed there
or walked ‘mongst the recesses of the deep?
Have they been shown to you, the gates of death?
The deepest darkness, its gates, have you seen?
Its vast expanses, comprehend the earth’s,
have you? If you know all of this, tell me.

“What is the way to the abode of light?
And where the darkness presently resides?
Can you take them, their place, specifically?
Do you know paths that to their dwellings, lead?
For you, already born, you know for sure!
For certain you have lived so many years!

“The snow’s storehouses, have you entered them,
or seen storehouses where’s kept all the hail,
that I reserve for times of trouble, and
for days of war and battle? What, the way,
unto that place where, scattered o’er the earth,
the east winds are? Who makes the crevices,
for rain, its torrents, thunderstorm, its paths
to water a land where nobody lives,
a desert that is uninhabited,
a des’late wasteland, satisfy, it would
and sprout with grass? Does rain, distributed,
a father, have? Who fathers drops of dew?
From whose womb comes the ice? Birth, to the frost,
who gives that, from the heavens, hard as stone,
when they, the waters, stillness, what is caused,
when, it, the surface of the deep is froze?

“Can you, up in the Pleiades, bind chains?
Can you, it, loosen, star-Orion’s belt?
The constellations, in their seasons, can
you bring them forth, or with its cubs, compel
the Bear? Do you know all its laws for sure,
those of the heav’ns? Can you for me, assert,
dominion, God’s, establish, o’er the earth?

”Your voice into the clouds, can it, you raise,
with water’s flood, yourself, then, cover o’er?
Do you send bolts of lightning on their way?
Do they report to you, ‘Hey, here we are!’?
Who gives the ibis wisdom, or who gives
the rooster understanding? Count the clouds,
who has the wisdom such a task requires?
Who pours the water jars in heaven out
when dust becomes hard, dry upon the earth,
and they will stick, together, clods of dirt?

“Do you hunt prey for her, the lioness,
the hunger of the lions, satisfy,
they crouch in thickets, when they’re in their dens,
in wait, they lie? Who, food, this bird, provides,
the raven, black, when its young cry to God
and wander all about for lack of food?

Rhyming Job, Chapter 31

“With them, my eyes, I made a covenant,
at women, young, I’d not look lustfully.
From God above, our lot, but what is that,
our heritage from the Almighty, high?
Is it not ruin for those, the wicked men,
disaster for those who do wrong, at fault?
Does he not see my ways, each step of mine?

“If I, with falsehood, how it is I’ve walked,
or hurried, has my foot, after deceit —
In honest scales, may God record my mass,
and that I am as blameless, still, he’ll see —
if my steps have turned off from it, the path,
if my heart has been led by them, my eyes,
or if my hands have been, themselves, defiled,
then may let others eat what I have sown,
my crops uprooted from the place they’ve known.

“If my heart has, by woman, been enticed,
or if my neighbor’s door, at it, I’ve lurked,
then may my wife, another man’s grain, grind,
then any other man may sleep with her.
For that would have been wicked, to be judged
a sin. Like one that burns, it is a fire,
unto Destruction; that, my harvest, would,

“uprooted, have. If justice, I’ve denied,
to servant, female, male, irrelevant,
when they, against me, had their grievances,
when God confronts me, what will I do then?
Called to account, what is my consequence?
Did not he who made me as well make them
inside the womb? Did not the same one form
us both within our mothers? If contempt,
for their desires is what I have, the poor’s,
or let the widow’s eyes, with weariness,
grow, if unto myself, I’ve kept my bread,
if I don’t share it with the fatherless —
but from my youth, I reared them as he would,
a father, and the widow, from my birth,
I guided her — if e’er seen one, I had,
for lack of clothing, perishing from earth,
those needy ones who, garments, what they lack
and their hearts did, no blessing for me, have
for warming them with fleece, from my sheep, cut,
if ‘gainst the fatherless, upraised a hand,
e’en knowing of my influence in court,
then let my arm fall from its shoulder joint,
let it be broken off right at that point.
Destruction, dreaded, that, my God would bring,
for fear, his splendor, I’d ne’er do such things.

“If I’ve put all my trust in gold or tell
to purest gold, ‘You’re my security,’
if I’ve rejoiced o’er my exceeding wealth,
the fortune that my hands have gained for me,
if I regarded, in its rad’iancy,
the sun’s, its splendor, how the moon traversed,
so that my heart, enticed, in secrecy,
and my hand offered them an homage kiss,
then these would be my sins that should be judged
for I’d have been unfaithful, God above.

“If I, at his, my enemy’s, rejoiced,
misfortune, or the trouble, over that
which came to him — my mouth, I’ve not allowed
to sin that way, invoking curses ‘gainst
their life — ‘Who’s not been filled before with meat’
(if those ‘mongst household, mine, ne’er said) ‘from Job?’ —
but strangers, none, e’er sleeping in the street,
for, to the traveler, it’s wide and ope’d,
my door — if I, as people do, enshroud
my sin by hiding guilt deep in my heart
because I was so fearful of the crowd,
I’d dread the clans’ contempt, their low regard,
that I kept silent, go outside, I’d not —

(“Oh, that someone, my pleas, would hear! I sign
now my defense — let the Almighty God,
now answer me; let him, now, me, indict,
in writing, my accuser, put it down.
I’d surely wear it on my shoulder, I
would put it on my head just like a crown.
I’d give account of ev’ry step of mine
to him; a presentation that comports
with how you’d give a ruler a report.) —

“if my land cries out ‘gainst me and they’re wet,
its furrows, all of them, with weeping tears,
if I’ve devoured its yield, no payment spent,
if I broke tenants’ spirits, made them fear,
not wheat but briars, from the soil, would raise,
and stinkweed in my field, in barley’s place.”

Job’s words here, ended; none more, he conveyed.