Turn from him, that he may rest, Till he shall accomplish, as an hireling, his day.
How long wilt thou not depart from me, Nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
O spare me, that I may recover strength, Before I go hence, and be no more.
Are not my days few? Cease then, And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
I loathe it; I would not live alway: Let me alone; for my days are vanity.
For there is hope of a tree, If it be cut down, that it will sprout again, And that the tender branch thereof will not cease.
But now the LORD hath spoken, saying, Within three years, as the years of an hireling, and the glory of Moab shall be contemned, with all that great multitude; and the remnant shall be very small and feeble.