"Oh that I knew where I might find my Judge, That I might press even to His seat, and plead My cause before Him. Would He strike me dumb With His great power? Nay,--rather would he give Strength to the weakness that would answer Him. Lo! I go forward,--but He is not there,-- And backward, yet my eyes perceive Him not. On the left hand, His works surround me still, But He is absent,--on the right, I gaze, Yet doth He hide Himself. But well He knows My way, and when the time of trial's o'er, And the refining fire hath purg'd the dross, I shall come forth as gold. My feet have kept The path appointed, nor from His commands Unduly swerved, for I have prized His word More than my needful food. Yet He performs What His wise counsel hath decreed for me, Though sometimes sinks my soften'd heart beneath The terror of His stroke. There are, who seize With violence whate'er their eyes desire; Gorging themselves upon the stolen flock And leaving desolate the rifled hut Of the defenceless. Solitary ones Hide from their robberies, for forth they go Into the wilderness, their prey to hunt Like ravening beasts. There are, who watch to slay, Rising before the dawn, or wrapp'd in night Roaming with stealthy footstep, as a thief, To smite their victims, while the wounded groan Struck by their fatal shaft. There are, who do Such deeds of utter darkness as detest The gaze of day. Muffling their face, they dig Their way to habitations where they leave Shame and dishonor. Though He seem to sleep, God's eye is on their ways. A little while They wrap themselves in secret infamy, Or proudly flourish,--but as the tall tree Yields in a moment to the wrecking blast, As 'neath the sickle falls the crisping corn, Shall they be swept away, and leave no trace." * * * * * Bildad, the Shuhite, rose in act to speak.