And ye have defiled the covering of Thy graven images of silver, And the ephod of thy molten image of gold, Thou scatterest them as a sickening thing, `Go out,' thou sayest to it.
Spread-out silver from Tarshish is brought, And gold from Uphaz, Work of an artizan, and of the hands of a refiner, Blue and purple `is' their clothing, Work of the skilful -- all of them.
And he giveth back the money to his mother, and his mother taketh two hundred silverlings, and giveth them to a refiner, and he maketh them a graven image, and a molten image, and it is in the house of Micah.