Son of man, the house of Yisra'el is become dross to me: all of them are brass and tin and iron and lead, in the midst of the furnace; they are the dross of silver.
His rock will pass away by reason of terror, and his princes will be afraid of the banner,* says the LORD, whose fire is in Tziyon, and his furnace in Yerushalayim.
As they gather silver and brass and iron and lead and tin into the midst of the furnace, to blow the fire on it, to melt it; so will I gather you in my anger and in my wrath, and I will lay you there, and melt you.