aggering further into the
darkness, and breaking out into upbraidings of the Power which has
become so dreadful an enigma to him. 'Thou enquirest after my iniquity,
thou searchest after my sin, and thou knowest that I am not wicked. Why
didst thou bring me forth out of the womb? Oh, that I had given up the
ghost, and no eye had seen me. Cease, let me alone. It is but a little
while that I have to live. Let me alone, that I may take comfort a
little before I go, whence I shall not return to the land of darkness
and the shadow of death.' In what other poem in the world is there
pathos deep as this? With experience so stern as his, it was not for Job
to be calm, and self-possessed, and delicate in his words. He speaks not
what he knows, but what he feels; and without fear the writer allows him
to throw out his passion all genuine as it rises, not overmuch caring
how nice ears might be offended, but contented to be true to the real
emotion of a genuine human heart. So the poem runs on to the end of the
first answer to Zophar.

But now, with admirable fitness, as the contest goes forward, the
relative position of the speakers begins to change. Hitherto, Job only
had been passionate; and his friends temperate and collected. Now,
becoming shocked at his obstinacy, and disappointed in the result of
their homilies, they stray still further from the truth in an endeavour
to strengthen their position, and, as a natural consequence, visibly
grow angry. To them, Job's vehement and desperate speeches are damning
evidence of the truth of their suspicion. Impiety is added to his first
sin, and they begin to see in him a rebel against God. At first they had
been contented to speak generally, and much which they had urged was
partially true; now they step forward to a direct application, and
formally and personally accuse himself. Here their ground is positively
false; and with delicate art it is they who are now growing violent, and
wounded self-love begins to show behind their zeal for God; while in
contrast to them, as there is less and less truth in what they say, Job
grows more and more collected. For a time it had seemed doubtful how he
would endure his trial. The light of his faith was burning feebly and
unsteadily; a little more, and it seemed as if it might have utterly
gone out. But at last the storm was lulling; as the charges are brought
personally home to him, the confidence in his own real innocence rises
against them. He h