Awake, awake put on strength, O arm of Yahweh, Awake, As in days of old, The generations of bygone ages: Art not thou that which—Hewed down Rahab, Piercing the Crocodile?
Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say,—I will place him in safety—let him puff at him!
Alas! for him who saith to wood, Awake, bestir thee! to a silent stone, he, shall teach! Though he is overlaid with gold and silver, yet, no spirit whatsoever, is in him!