With flocks the pastures clothed be, the vales with corn are clad; And now they shout and sing to thee, for thou hast made them glad.
That to afford all kind of store our garners may be fill'd; That our sheep thousands, in our streets ten thousands they may yield.
Of corn an handful in the earth on tops of mountains high, With prosp'rous fruit shall shake, like trees on Lebanon that be. The city shall be flourishing, her citizens abound In number shall, like to the grass that grows upon the ground.