“I thought, ‘I will die in my own house, my days as numerous as the grains of sand.
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.