The king of Assyria sent out his field commander with a large army from Lachish to King Hezekiah in Jerusalem. When the commander came near the waterway from the upper pool on the road where people do their laundry, he stopped.
I don’t understand why my pain has no end. I don’t understand why my injury is not cured or healed. Will you be like a brook that goes dry? Will you be like a spring that stops flowing?