To the Chief Musician, on the deer of the dawn. A Psalm of David. My God, my God, why have You forsaken me, and are far from my deliverance, and from the words of my groaning?
Yes, they shall not be planted; yes, they shall not be sown. Yes, their stump shall not take root in the earth. And He shall also blow on them, and they shall wither, and the tempest shall take them away like stubble.
Who raised up the righteous one from the east, called him to His foot, gave the nations before him, and made him rule over kings? He gave them as the dust to his sword, and as driven stubble to his bow.
whose fan is in His hand, and He will cleanse His floor and gather His wheat into the storehouse; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.