“Is the wild ox willing to serve you? Will it spend the night at your crib?
Can you tie it in the furrow with ropes, or will it harrow the valleys after you?
It ranges the mountains as its pasture, and it searches after every green thing.
Save me from the mouth of the lion! From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf and Sirion like a young wild ox.
But you have exalted my horn like that of the wild ox; you have anointed me with fresh oil.
The ox knows its owner and the donkey its master’s crib, but Israel does not know; my people do not understand.
Wild oxen shall fall with them and young steers with the mighty bulls. Their land shall be soaked with blood, and their soil made rich with fat.
God, who brings them out of Egypt, is like the horns of a wild ox for them.
A firstborn bull—majesty is his! His horns are the horns of a wild ox; with them he gores the peoples all together to the ends of the earth; such are the myriads of Ephraim, such the thousands of Manasseh.”