The dead praise not the Lord, neither any that go down into silence.
What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy truth?
Let me not be ashamed, O Lord; for I have called upon thee: let the wicked be ashamed, and let them be silent in the grave.
For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?
I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.
He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; for by strength shall no man prevail.