Psalms 88:9-12

Every day I beg for your help. Can’t you see my tears? My eyes are swollen with weeping. My arms are wide, longing for mercy, but you’re nowhere to be found. How can those who are cut off from your care even know that you are there? Do departed spirits rise up to praise you? Pause in his presence Who can give thanks for your love in the graveyard? Who preaches your faithfulness in the place of destruction? Does death’s darkness declare your miracles? How can anyone who’s in the grave, where all is forgotten, remember how you keep your promises?