And It Shall Be at the End of My Life

And it shall be at the end of my life, And I shall ask how I fell. Comfort me, comfort me, When I shall ask how I kept silent Before a tamarisk in the wilderness. Even the hewers of stone Carved their writings in the waters of Siloam; With hammers they wounded the rock, With burning fire their souls forever aflame. And I, like dry grass, Like a flower that fadeth and withereth, Like a shadow that passeth away, Like a silent fish.