Isaiah 38:14-19 - Compare All Versions

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I cried like a swift or thrush, I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens. I am being threatened; Lord, come to my aid!” But what can I say? He has spoken to me, and he himself has done this. I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. Lord, by such things people live; and my spirit finds life in them too. You restored me to health and let me live. Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish. In your love you kept me from the pit of destruction; you have put all my sins behind your back. For the grave cannot praise you, death cannot sing your praise; those who go down to the pit cannot hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living—they praise you, as I am doing today; parents tell their children about your faithfulness.

Like a swallow or a crane I chirp; I moan like a dove. My eyes are weary with looking upward. O Lord, I am oppressed; be my pledge of safety! What shall I say? For he has spoken to me, and he himself has done it. I walk slowly all my years because of the bitterness of my soul. O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these is the life of my spirit. Oh restore me to health and make me live! Behold, it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness; but in love you have delivered my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back. For Sheol does not thank you; death does not praise you; those who go down to the pit do not hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living, he thanks you, as I do this day; the father makes known to the children your faithfulness.

Delirious, I chattered like a swallow or a crane, and then I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew tired of looking to heaven for help. I am in trouble, Lord. Help me!” But what could I say? For he himself sent this sickness. Now I will walk humbly throughout my years because of this anguish I have felt. Lord, your discipline is good, for it leads to life and health. You restore my health and allow me to live! Yes, this anguish was good for me, for you have rescued me from death and forgiven all my sins. For the dead cannot praise you; they cannot raise their voices in praise. Those who go down to the grave can no longer hope in your faithfulness. Only the living can praise you as I do today. Each generation tells of your faithfulness to the next.

I chirp like a swallow or a crane; I moan like a dove.  My eyes grow weak looking upward. Lord, I am oppressed; support me.  What can I say? He has spoken to me, and he himself has done it. I walk along slowly all my years  because of the bitterness of my soul.  Lord, by such things people live,  and in every one of them my spirit finds life; you have restored me to health  and let me live.  Indeed, it was for my own well-being that I had such intense bitterness;  but your love has delivered me from the Pit of destruction,  for you have thrown all my sins behind your back.  For Sheol cannot thank you; Death cannot praise you.  Those who go down to the Pit cannot hope for your faithfulness. The living, only the living can thank you, as I do today; a father will make your faithfulness known to children.

Like a crane or a swallow, so did I chatter: I did mourn as a dove: mine eyes fail with looking upward: O LORD, I am oppressed; undertake for me. What shall I say? he hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it: I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul. O Lord, by these things men live, And in all these things is the life of my spirit: So wilt thou recover me, and make me to live. Behold, for peace I had great bitterness: But thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption: For thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back. For the grave cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee: They that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth. The living, the living, he shall praise thee, as I do this day: The father to the children shall make known thy truth.

Like a crane or a swallow, so I chattered; I mourned like a dove; My eyes fail from looking upward. O LORD, I am oppressed; Undertake for me! “What shall I say? He has both spoken to me, And He Himself has done it. I shall walk carefully all my years In the bitterness of my soul. O Lord, by these things men live; And in all these things is the life of my spirit; So You will restore me and make me live. Indeed it was for my own peace That I had great bitterness; But You have lovingly delivered my soul from the pit of corruption, For You have cast all my sins behind Your back. For Sheol cannot thank You, Death cannot praise You; Those who go down to the pit cannot hope for Your truth. The living, the living man, he shall praise You, As I do this day; The father shall make known Your truth to the children.

This is what Hezekiah king of Judah wrote after he’d been sick and then recovered from his sickness: In the very prime of life I have to leave. Whatever time I have left is spent in death’s waiting room. No more glimpses of GOD in the land of the living, No more meetings with my neighbors, no more rubbing shoulders with friends. This body I inhabit is taken down and packed away like a camper’s tent. Like a weaver, I’ve rolled up the carpet of my life as God cuts me free of the loom And at day’s end sweeps up the scraps and pieces. I cry for help until morning. Like a lion, God pummels and pounds me, relentlessly finishing me off. I squawk like a doomed hen, moan like a dove. My eyes ache from looking up for help: “Master, I’m in trouble! Get me out of this!” But what’s the use? God himself gave me the word. He’s done it to me. I can’t sleep— I’m that upset, that troubled. O Master, these are the conditions in which people live, and yes, in these very conditions my spirit is still alive— fully recovered with a fresh infusion of life! It seems it was good for me to go through all those troubles. Throughout them all you held tight to my lifeline. You never let me tumble over the edge into nothing. But my sins you let go of, threw them over your shoulder—good riddance! The dead don’t thank you, and choirs don’t sing praises from the morgue. Those buried six feet under don’t witness to your faithful ways. It’s the living—live men, live women—who thank you, just as I’m doing right now. Parents give their children full reports on your faithful ways. * * *

“Like a swallow, like a crane, so I twitter; I moan like a dove; My eyes look wistfully to the heights; Lord, I am oppressed, be my security. ¶“What shall I say? For He has spoken to me, and He Himself has done it; I will walk quietly all my years because of the bitterness of my soul. “Lord, by these things people live, And in all these is the life of my spirit; Restore me to health and let me live! “Behold, for my own welfare I had great bitterness; But You have kept my soul from the pit of nothingness, For You have hurled all my sins behind Your back. “For Sheol cannot thank You, Death cannot praise You; Those who go down to the pit cannot hope for Your faithfulness. “It is the living who give thanks to You, as I do today; A father tells his sons about Your faithfulness.

“Like a swallow, like a crane, so I chirp; I coo like a dove. My eyes look wistfully upward; O Lord, I am oppressed, take my side and be my security. ¶“What shall I say? For He has spoken to me, and He Himself has done it; I will wander aimlessly all my years because of the bitterness of my soul. “O Lord, by these things men live, And in all these is the life of my spirit; Restore me to health and let me live! “Indeed, it was for my own well-being that I had such bitterness; But You have loved back my life from the pit of nothingness (destruction), For You have cast all my sins behind Your back. “For Sheol cannot praise or thank You, Death cannot praise You and rejoice in You; Those who go down to the pit cannot hope for Your faithfulness. “It is the living who give praise and thanks to You, as I do today; A father tells his sons about Your faithfulness.

Like a swallow or a thrush I chirp, I coo like a dove; my eyes grow tired from looking up to the sky. O sovereign master, I am oppressed; help me! What can I say? He has decreed and acted. I will walk slowly all my years because I am overcome with grief. O sovereign master, your decrees can give men life; may years of life be restored to me. Restore my health and preserve my life.’ “Look, the grief I experienced was for my benefit. You delivered me from the pit of oblivion. For you removed all my sins from your sight. Indeed Sheol does not give you thanks; death does not praise you. Those who descend into the pit do not anticipate your faithfulness. The living person, the living person, he gives you thanks, as I do today. A father tells his sons about your faithfulness.