“They lift up their voices and sing to the tambourine and the lyre
And rejoice to the sound of the flute.

And if it be not so now, who will make me a liar, and make my speech nothing worth?

“Therefore my lyre (harp) is used for [the sound of] mourning,
And my flute for the [sound of the] voices of those who weep.

Notwithstanding my right I am accounted a liar; My wound is incurable, though I am without transgression.

For beware wrath, that He not lure you with His scorn; then a great ransom cannot turn you aside.

And the wild beast goeth into its lair, and they remain in their dens.

When they crouch in their dens
And lie in wait in their lair?

Lo, the hope of him is found a liar, Also at his appearance is not one cast down?

Who can strip off his outer covering?
Who can penetrate his double layer of armor?

His heart is firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.