You wore yourself out with so many consultations! Let the astrologers stand forth to save you, The stargazers who forecast at each new moon what would happen to you.
Go forth from Babylon, flee from Chaldea! With shouts of joy declare this, announce it; Make it known to the ends of the earth, Say: “The Lord has redeemed his servant Jacob.
What do I see? Are they panicking, falling apart? Their warriors are hammered back, They flee headlong never making a stand. Terror on every side— oracle of the Lord!
At the noise of the pounding hooves of his steeds, the clanking chariots, the rumbling wheels, Parents do not turn back for their children; their hands hang helpless,
Cut off the sower from Babylon and those who wield sickles at harvest time! Before the destroying sword, all of them turn back to their own people, all flee to their own land.
Babylon’s warriors have ceased to fight, they remain in their strongholds; Dried up is their strength, they have become women. Burned down are their homes, broken their gates.
Your sentries are like locusts, and your scribes like locust swarms Gathered on the rubble fences on a cold day! Yet when the sun rises, they vanish, and no one knows where they have gone.
Then one of the seven angels who were holding the seven bowls came and said to me, “Come here. I will show you the judgment on the great harlot who lives near the many waters.