For the sun rises with scorching wind and withers the grass. Then the flower falls, and its beautiful appearance is destroyed. So the rich person will also fade away in their pursuits.
They are jagged rocks in y’all’s love feasts, feasting with y’all without fear, shepherding only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried along by winds; autumn trees without fruit, twice dead and uprooted.
When the sun arose, God appointed a hot east wind; and the sun beat on Jonah’s head, so that he became faint. He begged with all his soul to die, saying, “It is better for me to die than to live.”
For you have been a stronghold to the poor, a stronghold to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat, when the blast of the dreaded ones is like a storm against the wall.
Y’all don’t stare at me because I am dark, because the sun has scorched me. My mother’s sons were angry with me. They made me keeper of the vineyards. I haven’t kept my own vineyard.