And now, thus said Jehovah, Thy Creator, O Jacob, and thy Fashioner, O Israel, Be not afraid, for I have redeemed thee, I have called on thy name -- thou `art' Mine.
Sing, O heavens, for Jehovah hath wrought, Shout, O lower parts of earth, Break forth, O mountains, with singing, Forest, and every tree in it, For Jehovah hath redeemed Jacob, And in Israel He doth beautify Himself.
Confirming the word of His servant, The counsel of His messengers it perfecteth, Who is saying of Jerusalem, She is inhabited, And of cities of Judah, They shall be built, and her wastes I raise up,
Go out from Babylon, flee from the Chaldeans, With a voice of singing declare, Cause ye this to be heard, Bring it forth unto the end of the earth, Say, Redeemed hath Jehovah His servant Jacob.
Sing, O heavens, and joy, O earth, And break forth, O mountains, with singing, For comforted hath Jehovah His people, And His afflicted ones He doth pity.
For Jehovah hath comforted Zion, He hath comforted all her wastes, And He setteth her wilderness as Eden, And her desert as a garden of Jehovah, Joy, yea, gladness is found in her, Confession, and the voice of song.
For with joy ye go forth, And with peace ye are brought in, The mountains and the hills Break forth before you `with' singing, And all trees of the field clap the hand.
And they have built the wastes of old, The desolations of the ancients they raise up, And they have renewed waste cities, The desolations of generation and generation.
In all their distress `He is' no adversary, And the messenger of His presence saved them, In His love and in His pity He redeemed them, And He doth lift them up, And beareth them all the days of old.
Be pained, and bring forth, O daughter of Zion, As a travailing woman, For now, thou goest forth from the city, And thou hast dwelt in the field, And thou hast gone unto Babylon, There thou art delivered, There redeem thee doth Jehovah from the hand of thine enemies.
for it hath been written, `Rejoice, O barren, who art not bearing; break forth and cry, thou who art not travailing, because many `are' the children of the desolate -- more than of her having the husband.'