18
"I thought, 'I will die in my own house, my days as numerous as the grains of sand.119
My roots will reach to the water,2 and the dew will lie all night on my branches.320
My glory will remain fresh4 in me, the bow5 ever new in my hand.'621
"Men listened to me expectantly, waiting in silence for my counsel.722
After I had spoken, they spoke no more;8 my words fell gently on their ears.923
They waited for me as for showers and drank in my words as the spring rain.1024
When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it; the light of my face11 was precious to them.a1225
I chose the way for them and sat as their chief;13 I dwelt as a king14 among his troops; I was like one who comforts mourners.15
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