Job’s Trial
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Job lived in the land of Uz, being was blameless, good and true;
Seasoned in the fear of God, he knew
That his children in innocent play
Might from the Lord turn away,
So interceding, on his knees
Cried out pleading to the God who sees
Saying, ‘Lord, overlook their impertinence please’.
Satan, by the throne of heav’n, was invited to see
God’s man with immense integrity;
‘Not for nought does He serve You’, he said
‘There’s not an anxious hair on his head,
With your permission I do intend
To run a mission (down there) with our friend
Unearthing a bitter heart at the bitter end’.
One day – what a dreadful day – came a hurricane,
Feasting, Job’s whole family were slain;
When the sores on his skin multiplied
His wife in great agony cried,
‘Why, in the darkness of this night,
Not give indulgence to spite,
Seeing the wrong we’ve suffered here won’t ever be right?’
“What the good LORD gave He has taken away,
Blessed be His holy name;
Shall we but receive summer sunshine rays
Then despise Him for the rain?”
Comfort from companions was the final blow
Certain in their ignorance each showed
That a friend can be terribly mean,
Some things just aren’t what they seem –
Sometimes the suff’ring we endure,
Supposing we’re secure,
Is for a reason the Lord’s deep providence has obscured.
In the climax of that season saintly Job confessed
‘The Creator of the universe knows best!’
Having heard God’s voice from on high
And having seen Him with his eye,
In dust and ashes, crouching low,
Body reeling from the blow,
Muttered, ‘Lord, I’ve spoken of things I truly don’t know’.
“Though He strike my body and He slays my soul
I will trust Him with my hand
My Redeemer lives, here upon this soil,
Resurrected I will stand….”
In a moment, flames were smothered, in a cloudless sky;
Sorrows vanished in the twinkling of an eye;
Having borne his companions disdain
By the Lord he was honoured again;
That we who listen to what God says,
While pressing onwards, through hard days,
Might learn with Job of old God’s virtue to praise!
Though He strike my body and He slays my soul
I will trust Him with my hand
My Redeemer lives, here upon this soil,
Resurrected I will stand….
Steve Layfield – March 2013
