“Is the wild ox willing to serve you? Will it spend the night at your manger?
Will you bind a wild ox to a furrow with his rope? Will it plow valleys behind you?
It explores the mountains as its pasture and searches after every green thing.
Deliver my soul from the sword— my only one from the power of the dog.
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf, Sirion like a young wild ox.
For behold, Your enemies, Adonai —behold Your enemies perish— all evildoers are scattered.
The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its manger, but Israel does not know, My people do not understand.”
Wild oxen will go down with them, bull calves with mighty steers. So their land will be soaked with blood and their dust greasy with fat.
God is bringing them from Egypt with the strong horns of the wild ox!
The firstborn ox—majesty is his. His horns are the horns of the wild ox. With them he gores peoples, all at once, to the ends of the earth. They are the myriads of Ephraim, they are the thousands of Manasseh.’