Even in death, we live and praise the Lord.
A reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah.
Once I said, “In the noontime of life I must depart!
To the gates of the nether world I shall be consigned
for the rest of my years.”
I said, “I shall see the Lord no more in the land of the living.
No longer shall I behold my fellow men
among those who dwell in the world.”
My dwelling, like a shepherd’s tent,
is struck down and borne away from me;
You have folded up my life,
like a weaver who severs the last thread.
Day and night you give me over to torment;
I cry out until the dawn.
Like a lion he breaks all my bones;
[day and night you give me over to torment].
Like a swallow I utter shrill cries; I moan like a dove.
My eyes grow weak, gazing heavenward:
O Lord, I am in straits; be my surety!
You have preserved my life from the pit of destruction,
When you cast behind your back all my sins.
For it is not the nether world that gives you thanks,
nor death that praises you;
Neither do those who go down into the pit await your kindness.
The living, the living give you thanks, as I do today.
The Lord is our savior;
we shall sing to stringed instruments
In the house of the Lord all the days of our life.
The Word of the Lord.