if I say to the pit, ‘You are my father,’ and to the worm, ‘My mother,’ or ‘My sister,’
“So he wastes away like something rotten, like a moth-eaten garment.
Even after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God;
Together they lie in the dust and worms cover over them.
The womb forgets him, the worm feasts on him, no longer will he be remembered. But like a tree, wickedness is broken.
how much less man who is but a maggot— a son of man who is a worm!”
My skin has turned black on me; my bones burn with heat.
My flesh is clothed with maggots and clods of dirt; My skin is broken and festering.
For You will not abandon my soul to Sheol nor let Your faithful one see the Pit.
For the redemption of a soul is costly— so, one should stop trying forever.
Your pomp is brought down to Sheol with the music of your harps. Maggots are spread out under you, and worms cover you.”
So also is the resurrection of the dead: Sown in corruption, raised in incorruption!