For in death there is no memory of you. In Sheol, who shall give you thanks?
The dead don’t praise the LORD, nor any who go down into silence,
Then I called on the LORD’s name: “LORD, I beg you, deliver my soul.”
I will not die, but live, and declare the LORD’s works.
“What profit is there in my destruction, if I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise you? Shall it declare your truth?
Relent, LORD! How long? Have compassion on your servants!
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; for there is no work, nor plan, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in Sheol, where you are going.
I must work the works of him who sent me while it is day. The night is coming, when no one can work.