For the sun hath sprung up, with it scorching heat, and hath withered the grass, and, the flower thereof, hath fallen out, and, the beauty of the face thereof, hath perished,—so, also the rich, in his goings, shall languish.
These are they—who, in your love-feasts, are hidden rocks, as they fare sumptuously together, fearlessly, themselves, shepherding,—clouds without water, by winds swept along, trees autumnal, fruitless, twice dead, uprooted,
And with all manner of deceit of unrighteousness, in them who are destroying themselves, because, the love of the truth, they did not welcome, that they might be saved;—
And it came to pass, at the breaking forth of the sun, that God appointed a sultry east wind, and the sun smote upon the head of Jonah, that he became faint,—and asked his life, that he might die, and said, It were better for me, to die, than, to live.
For thou didst become A refuge to the weak. A refuge to the needy, when distress was upon him,—A shelter from the storm. A shade from the heat, When the blast of tyrants was like a storm against a wall.
SHE Do not look on me, because, I, am so swarthy, because the sun hath scorched me,—My mother’s sons, were angry with me, they set me to keep the vineyards, Mine own vineyard, have I not kept. …