The Strength Of His Hand Part 13

Lord, by such things men live... . Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish.

Then came words of praise and thanksgiving. Hezekiah wanted to write a magnificent hymn to G.o.d, thanking Him for saving his life once again. But even as he scribbled the words, they seemed inadequate. He envied King David-his soaring songs of thanksgiving seemed to praise G.o.d so much better than his own.

When he finished, Hezekiah laid the page aside and slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, groping for the floor. He flexed his right foot and felt the painful tightness in the new skin that had begun to grow back, replacing his burned flesh. The muscles of his legs trembled, and he wasn't convinced they would hold his weight. But this was the morning of the third day, and, as Isaiah had promised, Hezekiah would worship in Yahweh's Temple. He stood for the first time in weeks, leaning against the bed for support. His servants helped him dress. He was about to take his first step when Isaiah walked through the door.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. May I join you in worship?" He smiled his familiar, fleeting half-smile and offered his arm for Hezekiah to lean on.

Hezekiah took a step, then another and another. He felt dizzy, weightless, and grateful for Isaiah's rocklike strength. He leaned on him heavily. Hezekiah took two more steps, leaving his bedchamber for the first time in more than two weeks, and entered his sitting room. Shebna bolted to his feet in surprise.

"You are up!"

"Yes, Shebna, and I'm going to the Temple."

Hezekiah's valet followed them from the bedroom, carrying the parchment with the psalm he'd written. "What about this, Your Majesty?" Hezekiah looked at it for a moment, then rolled it up and handed it to Isaiah. "Keep this for me, Rabbi."

The shofar sounded from the Temple wall above them. "We'd better start walking," Hezekiah said. "I don't want to be late."

He left the palace and hobbled up the royal walkway to the Temple, gradually gaining his balance after lying in bed for so long. He relied on Isaiah less and less as he climbed stiffly up the hill. His leg tugged painfully with each step he took, but at least the pain remained in his leg instead of spreading through his body. The new skin seemed too tightly stretched, forcing him to favor his left leg. He would probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Like his ancestor Jacob, who walked with a limp, Hezekiah had also wrestled with G.o.d.

As he hobbled through the gate and took his place on the royal dais, an immense cheer erupted from the crowd in the courtyard. The deafening sound continued for several minutes, and Hezekiah thought it probably could be heard for miles around.

"Praise the Lord," he murmured aloud, unashamed as tears rolled silently down his face. "The grave cannot praise you, O G.o.d. Only the living can praise you, as I am doing today. And I will sing your praise in the Temple of Yahweh every day of my life!"

Isaiah sat at the table in his tiny one-room home and reread the words of the king's psalm. Like his ancestor King David, Hezekiah had a gift for writing songs of praise to G.o.d. Isaiah dipped his pen into the pot of ink and wrote across the top of the parchment, A writing of Hezekiah king of Judah after his illness and recovery: I said, "In the prime of my life

must I go through the gates of death

and be robbed of the rest of my years?"

I said, "I will not again see the Lord,

the Lord, in the land of the living;

no longer will I look on mankind,

or be with those who now dwell in this world.

Like a shepherd's tent my house

has been pulled down and taken from me.

Like a weaver I have rolled up my life,

and he has cut me off from the loom;

day and night you made an end of me.

I waited patiently till dawn,

but like a lion he broke all my bones;

day and night you made an end of me.

I cried like a swift or thrush,

I moaned like a mourning dove.

My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens.

I am troubled; O Lord, come to my aid!"

But what can I say?

He has spoken to me, and he himself has done this.

I will walk humbly all my years

because of this anguish of my soul.

Lord, by such things men live;

and my spirit finds life in them too.

You restored me to health

and let me live.

Surely it was for my benefit

that I suffered such anguish.

In your love you kept me

from the pit of destruction;