Psalm 88:9-11
The Voice
9 My eyes grow dim, weakened by this sickness;
it is taking my strength from me.
Like a worn cloth, my hands are unfolded before You daily, O Eternal One.
10 Are You the miracle-worker for the dead?
Will they rise from the dark shadows to worship You again?
[pause]
11 Will Your great love be proclaimed in the grave
or Your faithfulness be remembered in whispers like mists throughout the place of ruin?[a]
Footnotes
- 88:11 Hebrew, Abaddon
Psalm 88:9-11
New International Version
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