Like sheep they are destined for Sheol. Death will be their shepherd and the upright will rule over them in the morning. Their image will decay in Sheol— far from its lofty place.
Should I ransom them from the hand of Sheol? Should I redeem them from death? O death, where are your plagues? O Sheol, where is your sting? Comfort is hidden from My eyes.”
And they are singing a new song, saying, “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals. For You were slain, and by Your blood You redeemed for God those from every tribe and tongue and people and nation.
Then I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Write: How fortunate are the dead—those who die in the Lord from now on!” “Yes,” says the Ruach, “that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them.”