it is sharpened that it may make a slaughter; it is furbished that it may be as lightning: shall we then make mirth? the rod of my son, it condemns every tree.
Cry and wail, son of man; for it is on my people, it is on all the princes of Yisra'el: they are delivered over to the sword with my people; strike therefore on your thigh.
You therefore, son of man, prophesy, and strike your hands together; and let the sword be doubled the third time, the sword of the deadly wounded: it is the sword of the great one who is deadly wounded, which enters into their chambers.