For the grave cannot praise you, death can not celebrate you: they that go down into the pit cannot hope for your truth.
To you will I cry, O LORD my rock; be not silent to me: lest, if you be silent to me, I become like them that go down into the pit.
What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise you? shall it declare your truth?
For in death there is no remembrance of you: in the grave who shall give you thanks?
I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.
The wicked is driven away in his wickedness: but the righteous has hope in his death.
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, where you go.
They, and all that appertained to them, went down alive into the pit, and the earth closed on them: and they perished from among the congregation.
And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal.
But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.