Why dost Thou shew me iniquity, And perversity dost cause to behold? And spoiling and violence are before me, And there is strife, and contention doth lift itself up,

And at kings it doth scoff, And princes are a laughter to it, At every fenced place it doth laugh, And it heapeth up dust, and captureth it.

Lo, is it not from Jehovah of Hosts And peoples are fatigued for fire, And nations for vanity are weary?

He hath stood, and He measureth earth, He hath seen, and He shaketh off nations, And scatter themselves do mountains of antiquity, Bowed have the hills of old, The ways of old are His.

Utterly naked Thou dost make Thy bow, Sworn are the tribes -- saying, 'Pause!' With rivers Thou dost cleave the earth.

Seen thee -- pained are mountains, An inundation of waters hath passed over, Given forth hath the deep its voice, High its hands it hath lifted up.

Thou hast pierced with his staves the head of his leaders, They are tempestuous to scatter me, Their exultation is as to consume the poor in secret.