But My people have forgotten Me, to a vain thing they make perfume, And they cause them to stumble in their ways -- paths of old, To walk in paths -- a way not raised up,
And destroyed have been high places of Aven, the sin of Israel. Thorn and bramble go up on their altars, And they have said to hills, Cover us, And to heights, Fall upon us.
For, lo, they have gone because of destruction, Egypt gathereth them, Moph burieth them, The desirable things of their silver, Nettles possess them -- a thorn `is' in their tents.
and that by the exceeding greatness of the revelations I might not be exalted overmuch, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of the Adversary, that he might buffet me, that I might not be exalted overmuch.