Hezekiah’s Poem of Praise

9 When King Hezekiah was well again, he wrote this poem:

10 I said, “In the prime of my life,

must I now enter the place of the dead?*

Am I to be robbed of the rest of my years?”

11 I said, “Never again will I see the Lord God

while still in the land of the living.

Never again will I see my friends

or be with those who live in this world.

12 My life has been blown away

like a shepherd’s tent in a storm.

It has been cut short,

as when a weaver cuts cloth from a loom.

Suddenly, my life was over.

13 I waited patiently all night,

but I was torn apart as though by lions.

Suddenly, my life was over.

14 Delirious, I chattered like a swallow or a crane,

and then I moaned like a mourning dove.

My eyes grew tired of looking to heaven for help.

I am in trouble, Lord. Help me!”

15 But what could I say?

For he himself sent this sickness.

Now I will walk humbly throughout my years

because of this anguish I have felt.

16 Lord, your discipline is good,

for it leads to life and health.

You restore my health

and allow me to live!

17 Yes, this anguish was good for me,

for you have rescued me from death

and forgiven all my sins.

18 For the dead* cannot praise you;

they cannot raise their voices in praise.

Those who go down to the grave

can no longer hope in your faithfulness.

19 Only the living can praise you as I do today.

Each generation tells of your faithfulness to the next.

20 Think of it—the Lord is ready to heal me!

I will sing his praises with instruments

every day of my life

in the Temple of the Lord.

21 Isaiah had said to Hezekiah’s servants, “Make an ointment from figs and spread it over the boil, and Hezekiah will recover.”

22 And Hezekiah had asked, “What sign will prove that I will go to the Temple of the Lord?”