Greetje: New page: {{info}}The morning after Job had lost
His children and his wealth, he crossed
The half-plowed pasture to the east,
And made his way once more as priest
And father, to the alta...

2008-10-12T21:23:46Z

New page: {{info}}The morning after Job had lost His children and his wealth, he crossed The half-plowed pasture to the east, And made his way once more as priest And father, to the alta...

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{{info}}The morning after Job had lost His children and his wealth, he crossed The half-plowed pasture to the east, And made his way once more as priest And father, to the altar on The the distant hill where he had gone A hundred times at dawn to pray And sacrifice the lamb, and lay His hands upon the head of that Poor sheep, and by its blood combat The sin of all his sons. From where Job stood beside the altar there At dawn this time, he saw across The valley to the east the loss Of all his earthly dreams — the home Of Zachan, like a catacomb Up-heaved from some dark cave, And broken like an open grave Where all his buried children lay.

His hands hung limp beside the gray Blood-splattered stone. And then he knelt And said, "O God, what you have dealt Me in this murky day is not What I had thought this bloody, blot- Red stone would bring. Did I not pray And sacrifice my lambs, and say With sacred oath upon my life: 'Far better I should take this knife And mingle lamb's blood with my own Than put my children on this stone'? But now what do I see below, But servants climbing to and fro Like ants on rubble foraging For lifeless sons.

O God, I cling With feeble fingers to the ledge Of your great grace, yet feel the wedge Of this calamity struck hard Between my chest and this deep-scarred And granite precipice of love. But I do fear the fingers of My wife are not so strong, to hear When she comes home, that every dear And precious child she bore is dead. Therefore, O God, once more, I shed The blood of this lamb to atone For her upon my killing stone. I bow before you in the dust: Have mercy to preserve her trust."

"They said that I would find you here. What's wrong, Job? There's an eerie fear On all their faces. Why are you Here offering today? You do This pri'r to Zachan's feast, I thought, And that was yesterday. I brought Him raisins from the river vines. He told me they're the only kinds He likes. And they won't grow down by The . . ." Dinah stopped and fixed her eye Where Zachan's great estate had stood. "O God . . . what in the name . . . Job, would You please tell me what's going on! What happened to that house? It's gone. Where's Zachan, Job? And why were my Three girls not waiting for me by The gate when I came home today The way they always do? Job, say What you must say." Job said, "I fear To speak what you might die to hear; Or worse, might, hearing, live and curse. O that I had time to rehearse Some wise and gentle way to tell You what we lost when that house fell."

Dawn broke, blood-red along the brink Of earth and heav'n; and scarlet ink Spilled upwards on the grey-blue shroud Above the land of Uz. Job bowed His head and gave way to great sobs. He'd seen this sky before: "It robs," He thought, "like some celestial thief Who thinks to gain by bringing grief, And stealing what he cannot use, Unless it bless him just to bruise. God crush you, bloody messenger Of pain! And, by my God, leave her Alone. If one must suffer here Still more, pluck on this flesh, and smear My face with gall, and take my life, But stay, and do not touch my wife."

These were his thoughts as they embraced, Who knows how long. (There is no haste In grief.) "Job." "Yes, Dinah?" "You know, It was a long, long time ago That you held me this way — so long And tight, and without sex, and strong. I might survive if you would stay And hold me like this every day."

Job smiled and loosed his hold. But when He tried to look at her again, She gasped and pulled away. Job's face Was full of sores, and every trace Of healthy skin was reddening Before her eyes. And then the sting Began, and itching. Soon the pus Was formed, and every sore was thus A putrid fountain of a dread And wormy oozing. Dinah fled, And left Job standing in his plague Alone. Within an hour one leg, And then the other, flamed with the Disease. The servants came to see, And brought him food, but never got Too close. He took the ashes hot From off the altar where the sheep Had burned, and rubbed them in, to keep The itching down. And then he dashed His pot and with a shard he gashed The biggest boils and let them bleed, Like scarlet ink with earthen reed To write his woes on parchment, grey And ashen, like the sky.

That day Was like a hundred years. At dusk His wife returned. And she was brusque And cool. "Do you still cling to God?" She asked. And saw his wordless nod. "I think you are a fool. How much From him will you endure 'til such A love as this from God, the Great, Is seen to be a form of hate? Here's my advice for you to try: Curse God, tonight, and die. And I Will follow soon — a widow robbed Of everything." And Dinah sobbed. And tears ran down Job's horrid face. He pulled himself up from his place, And by some power of grace, he stood Beside his wife and said, "I would, No doubt, in your place feel the same. But, wife, I cannot curse the name that never treated me unfair, And just this day has answered prayer." "What prayer? What did you bid him do?"

"That I should bear this pain not you.

O Dinah, do not speak like those Who cannot see, because they close Their eyes, and say there is no God, Or fault him when he plies the rod. It is no sin to say, my love, That bliss and pain come from above. And if we do not understand Some dreadful stroke from his left hand, Then we must wait and trust and see. O Dinah, would you wait with me?" "I'll try," she said, "I didn't mean That you should die. I'm more unclean Than you with all your sores. Is there Some evidence that God could care For such as me?" Job touched her hair:

"You are another answered prayer."

This candle two gives little light, And does not make the darkness bright. But keep it lit and you will find: Far better this than being blind. One little flame when all is night, Proves there is such a thing as light. One answered prayer when all is gone, Will give you hope to wait for dawn.

Job, Part 2 - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}}The morning after Job had lostHis children and his wealth, he crossedThe half-plowed pasture to the east,And made his way once more as priestAnd father, to the alta...

Greetje: New page: {{info}}The morning after Job had lost
His children and his wealth, he crossed
The half-plowed pasture to the east,
And made his way once more as priest
And father, to the alta...