Seeing God, Job forgets all he wanted to say. The close of the poem is grandly abrupt. To justify himself in the presence of Him who is Righteousness seems to him what it is—foolishness and worthless labor. If he is righteous, God knows it better than he does himself. All the evils and imperfections of his nature rise up before him in the presence of the one pure, the one who has no selfishness in him. “Behold,” he cries, “I am vile; what shall I answer thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth.” Then again, after God has called to witness for him behemoth and leviathan, he replies, “I know that thou canst do everything, and that no thought can be withholden from thee. Who is he that hideth counsel without knowledge?” This question was the word with which first God made his presence known to him; and in the mouth of Job now repeating the question, it is the humble confession, “I am that foolish man.” “Therefore,” he goes on, “have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not.” He had not knowledge enough to have a right to speak. “Hear, I beseech thee, and I will speak:” In the time to come, he will yet cry—to be taught, not to justify himself. “I will demand of thee, and declare thou unto me.” The more diligently yet will he seek to know the counsel of God. That he cannot understand will no longer distress him; it will only urge him to fresh endeavor after the knowledge of him who in all his doings is perfect.