The dead do not praise the Lord, nor do any of those who descend into the silence of death.
“What profit is there in taking my life, in my descending into the Pit? Can the dust of the grave praise you? Can it declare your loyalty?
O Lord, do not let me be humiliated, for I call out to you! May evil men be humiliated! May they go wailing to the grave!
For no one remembers you in the realm of death, In Sheol who gives you thanks?
I am exhausted as I groan; all night long I drench my bed in tears; my tears saturate the cushion beneath me.
He watches over his holy ones, but the wicked are made speechless in the darkness, for it is not by one’s own strength that one prevails.