I said: In the noontide of my days I must depart; I am consigned to the gates of Sheol for the rest of my years.
I said, I shall not see the Lord in the land of the living; I shall look upon mortals no more among the inhabitants of the world.
My dwelling is plucked up and removed from me like a shepherd's tent; like a weaver I have rolled up my life; he cuts me off from the loom; from day to night you bring me to an end;
I cry for help until morning; like a lion he breaks all my bones; from day to night you bring me to an end.
Like a swallow or a crane I clamor, I moan like a dove. My eyes are weary with looking upward. O Lord, I am oppressed; be my security!
But what can I say? For he has spoken to me, and he himself has done it. All my sleep has fled because of the bitterness of my soul.
O Lord, by these things people live, and in all these is the life of my spirit. Oh, restore me to health and make me live!
Surely it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness; but you have held back my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back.
For Sheol cannot thank you, death cannot praise you; those who go down to the Pit cannot hope for your faithfulness.
The living, the living, they thank you, as I do this day; fathers make known to children your faithfulness.
The Lord will save me, and we will sing to stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the Lord.