NET Bible
"My dwelling place is removed and taken away from me like a shepherd’s tent. I rolled up my life like a weaver rolls cloth; from the loom he cuts me off. You turn day into night and end my life."
— Isaiah 38:12, NET Bible
“Mine age is departed, and is removed from me as a shepherd’s tent: I have cut off like a weaver my life: he will cut me off with pining sickness: from day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.”
“My dwelling is removed, and is carried away from me as a shepherd’s tent: I have rolled up, like a weaver, my life; he will cut me off from the loom: From day even to night wilt thou make an end of me. ”
“My dwelling is removed, and is carried away from me like a shepherd's tent. I have rolled up, like a weaver, my life. He will cut me off from the loom. From day even to night you will make an end of me.”
“My generation is at an end, and it is rolled away from me, as a shepherd's tent. My life is cut off, as by a weaver: whilst I was yet but beginning, he cut me off: from morning even to night thou wilt make an end of me.”
“My resting-place is pulled up and taken away from me like a herdsman's tent: my life is rolled up like a linen-worker's thread; I am cut off from the cloth on the frame: from day even to night you give me up to pain.”
“Mine age is departed, and is removed from me as a shepherd’s tent: I have cut off like a weaver my life: he will cut me off with pining sickness: from day even to night wilt thou make an end of me.”
Hezekiah’s Song of Thanks This is the prayer of King Hezekiah of Judah when he was sick and then recovered from his illness:
“I thought,‘In the middle of my life I must walk through the gates of Sheol, I am deprived of the rest of my years.’
“I thought,‘I will no longer see the LORD in the land of the living, I will no longer look on humankind with the inhabitants of the world.
My dwelling place is removed and taken away from me like a shepherd’s tent. I rolled up my life like a weaver rolls cloth; from the loom he cuts me off. You turn day into night and end my life.
I cry out until morning; like a lion he shatters all my bones; you turn day into night and end my life.
Like a swallow or a thrush I chirp, I coo like a dove; my eyes grow tired from looking up to the sky. O Lord, 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.