Hezekiah’s Song of Thanksgiving

9This is a writing by Hezekiah king of Judah after his illness and recovery:

10I said, “In the prime of my life

I must go through the gates of Sheol

and be deprived of the remainder of my years.”

11I said, “I will never again see the LORD,

even the LORD, in the land of the living;

I will no longer look on mankind

with those who dwell in this world.

12My dwelling has been picked up and removed from me

like a shepherd’s tent.

I have rolled up my life like a weaver;

He cuts me off from the loom;

from day until night You make an end of me.

13I composed myself until the morning.

Like a lion He breaks all my bones;

from day until night You make an end of me.

14I chirp like a swallow or crane;

I moan like a dove.

My eyes grow weak as I look upward.

O Lord, I am oppressed; be my security.”

15What can I say?

He has spoken to me, and He Himself has done this.

I will walk slowly all my years

because of the anguish of my soul.

16O Lord, by such things men live,

and in all of them my spirit finds life.

You have restored me to health

and have let me live.

17Surely for my own welfare

I had such great anguish;

but Your love has delivered me from the pit of oblivion,

for You have cast all my sins behind Your back.

18For Sheol cannot thank You;

Death cannot praise You.

Those who descend to the Pit

cannot hope for Your faithfulness.

19The living, only the living, can thank You,

as I do today;

fathers will tell their children

about Your faithfulness.

20The LORD will save me;

we will play songs on stringed instruments

all the days of our lives

in the house of the LORD.

21Now Isaiah had said, “Prepare a lump of pressed figs and apply it to the boil, and he will recover.”

22And Hezekiah had asked, “What will be the sign that I will go up to the house of the LORD?”