In the day when thou plantest, fence thou in, And in the morning, cause thou, they slip, to blossom,—A harvest will have waved in the day of destiny, and mortal pain.
Who, is the man that is wise That he may discern this? And, unto whom, hath the mouth of Yahweh spoken, That he may declare it? For what cause Hath the land perished, Hath it been burned as a wilderness that no man passeth through?
And, our hope, putteth not to shame. Because, the love of God, hath been poured out in our hearts, through the Holy Spirit that hath been given unto us:
Therefore, thus, saith Yahweh, God of hosts, My Lord, In all broadways, shall be lamentation, and, in all streets, shall they say, Alas! Alas! And they shall call the husbandman unto the mourning, and, unto the lamentation, them who know a wailing song;
Cut ye off the sower from Babylon, And him that graspeth the sickle in the time of harvest, From the face of the sword of the oppressor, Each, to his own people will they turn, and Each, to his own land will they flee.