And he hath judged in righteousness the poor, And decided in uprightness for the humble of earth, And hath smitten earth with the rod of his mouth, And with the breath of his lips he putteth the wicked to death.
And their inhabitants are feeble-handed, They were broken down, and are dried up. They have been the herb of the field, And the greenness of the tender grass, Grass of the roofs, And blasted corn, before it hath risen up.
Yea, they have not been planted, Yea, they have not been sown, Yea, not taking root in the earth is their stock, And also He hath blown upon them, and they wither, And a whirlwind as stubble taketh them away.
Looking for much, and lo, little, And ye brought `it' home, and I blew on it, Wherefore? -- an affirmation of Jehovah of Hosts, Because of My house that is waste, And ye are running -- each to his house,
for the sun did rise with the burning heat, and did wither the grass, and the flower of it fell, and the grace of its appearance did perish, so also the rich in his way shall fade away!