My roots will reach to the water, and the dew will lie all night on my branches.
My glory will not fade; the bow will be ever new in my hand.’
“People listened to me expectantly, waiting in silence for my counsel.
After I had spoken, they spoke no more; my words fell gently on their ears.
They waited for me as for showers and drank in my words as the spring rain.
When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it; the light of my face was precious to them.
I chose the way for them and sat as their chief; I dwelt as a king among his troops; I was like one who comforts mourners.