And I make it a waste, It is not pruned, nor arranged, And gone up have brier and thorn, And on the thick clouds I lay a charge, From raining upon it rain.
Instead of the thorn come up doth fir, Instead of the brier come up doth myrtle, And it hath been to Jehovah for a name, For a sign age-during -- it is not cut off!
For many days remain do the sons of Israel without a king, and there is no prince, and there is no sacrifice, and there is no standing pillar, and there is no ephod and teraphim.