Then let my arm fall from my shoulder blade, and my arm be broken from its socket.
Then let my wife grind for another, and let others bow down upon her.
For destruction from God was a terror to me, and by reason of his majesty I could not endure.
Let thistles grow instead of wheat, and weeds instead of barley. The words of Job are ended.
And from the wicked their light is withheld, and the uplifted arm shall be broken.
If I do not remember you, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.