The ironsmith fashions a likeness, he works it over the coals, Shaping it with hammers, working it with his strong arm. With hunger his strength wanes, without water, he grows faint.
He received their offering, and fashioning it with a tool, made a molten calf. Then they cried out, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt.”
They have quickly turned aside from the way I commanded them, making for themselves a molten calf and bowing down to it, sacrificing to it and crying out, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!”
Of what use is the carved image, that its maker should carve it? Or the molten image, the lying oracle, that its very maker should trust in it, and make mute idols?